Autumns Breath
by Kasumi Ayane
Summary: Secrets are weapons, Sakura, her grandfather used to say. And Harunos were always good at keeping those. Sakura never realized how dark these secrets could be, but when someone moves down the path of retribution, it sets in motion events that will threaten everything she holds dear. For Sakura knows that some secrets become monsters. And some monsters always win.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

Kasumi Ayane presents:

**AUTUMN'S BREATH**

_"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."_

– _Stephen King_

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Jean de la Fontaine once said that nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.

As a little girl my understanding of secrets was not the simple definitions of how something is kept hidden from others or known only to oneself or to a few. Secrets were not the little deeds of mischief my friend committed and which I never spoke of to anyone; or the giggling whispers told in confidence under the peach tree in the garden. My understanding had its roots not in the quotes of great authors or proverbs we learnt in kindergarten, but in the words of perhaps the most haunting man in my life.

My grandfather, my beloved jiji.

He was always such a forceful character, even as he faded and decayed. He was tall, pale, with intense green eyes and possessing such an alluring voice that I was left hopelessly mesmerized. I hung on to his every word; let them soak into my young, fragile existence, as nourishing as food and water. I shall admit I never understood his words; at least, not at the tender age of four, five, six, when everything that mattered was sunny weather, white dresses and my dancing sister's bedazzling smiles. But I listened to him, dutifully silent on his lap in the dimly lit study of his sprawling palace, as he spoke the words that would be as attached to me as my limbs and my shadow.

'_Secrets are weapons, Sakura_, he would always tell me, tracing my round face with gnarled fingers. 'They are the vulnerable spot in a shining armor; Achilles' heel. They are what bring powerful men down on their knees to _beg_. And we possess those weapons, cherry blossom. We possess the secrets of others, and that makes us strong. Let the Hyuugas have their honor, let the Uchihas have their power, let the Senjus have their glory – we have it all, for we own _their_ _secrets_ and hence we _own them'_.

They were daunting words that caused me to shiver in horrified awe. I delighted in it, feeling an inexplicable sense of empowerment. We had weapons no one else thought to use, weapons that gave us power akin to kings and queens. We were _royalty_, for in a city like Konoha, everyone had a secret, and we owned all of them. At least, in my childish misconception, I believed it to be so.

But never had I thought that the secrets my jiji cherished so greatly would be our demise.

My words probably do not make much sense to you. Let me tell you the story of my family, the devious Haruno clan; the so-called secret keepers of Konoha.

We were an old family, as old as the founding clans, though we were never blessed with their strengths of leadership, or came in possession their immense power and wealth. But what we did come in possession of was a particular set of skills that few others knew how to use. We knew that everyone had a secret lurking in the shadows, hiding an affair, a fraud, a murder. Most people did not see what was right under their noses, too blinded by their own secrecy to notice or to care. But secrets are what define us, as jiji told me. And we Harunos always preyed on them.

Someway, somehow, we always managed to lure the secrets out of them. Jiji always said that those who are deceptively weak are the one's easily trusted, easily confided in because people mistakenly believe them to be harmless. And that was always their mistake – thinking our sympathetic looks and comforting pats to be just that, instead of a cleverly concealed ambition to become something great. That was how my ancestors climbed the ladder of success, how they entered the tightest circle of powerful leaders and noblemen, and how they became ruthless business tycoons.

By the turn of the 20th century, we were equally powerful and influential as the four founding families; Senju, Uchiha, Hyuuga and Sarutobi. And people _feared_ us.

Despite our namesake, _spring field_, the dragon had always been a well-used symbol, often associated with our fiery tempers and our merciless nature towards our opponents. But the ominous symbol had easily been forgotten in the wake of the Second World War, which had left Japan in tatters, and my family at a turning point. We donned a pristine white circle as our symbol, for unity, infinity, perfection, and we transformed ourselves into those likeable, trustworthy figures people once had mistaken us to be. We were thoughtful, empathetic, charitable, and very, _very_ clever.

And the dragon, the coiling, snarling creature was but a faded memory, only lingering as the name of my family's great business empire – Tatsu Corporations. We grew, we were trusted, and we were loved. By the time I was born, we had tied strong bonds with the Uchihas and the Hyuugas, whereas Sarutobi and Senju regarded us with the outmost respect and admiration.

But the secrets that had brought my family to such great success would also be their downfall. At least, that was what people believed, but no one truly understood what happened that hot summer night in 1999.

When I was six, my family had undisputedly become the most honorable elitists in the city. It was ruled by my grandfather, the most revered Waizu Haruno, business tycoon and highly respected member of Leaf Society. He had four children, three of them who were deeply involved in the family business. My father Kenshi, the eldest son, was one of them. People admired them, trusted them, adored them.

But in the early summer of that year, the credibility of Tatsu Corporations had been brought into question when a scandal shook it to its very foundations. Each member was hunted down by the paparazzi, their reputations tarnished by rumors and accusations. However, this had all been forgotten on the 22nd of July, when old Waizu, my grandfather, rapidly deteriorating after the horrendous scandal, had suddenly tumbled to his death in the grand staircase of his home. I should know. I was there. It left cracks in my rosy red world of perfection.

But that was not the worst of it. His death would become the catalyst of the horrific events that followed shortly after. In his disputed will, he left Tatsu in the hands of my father, whereas the other three siblings, my uncles and aunt, were given shares of the company. This was disputed, erupting the corporation and causing a feud between the Harunos and their competitors, who sought to put an end to the company altogether.

But the vicious dispute had barely lasted three weeks before it had come to a brutal and abrupt end.

On the 12th of August, perhaps one of the warmest nights of that summer, the Uchiha clan hosted their annual White Party – a festivity meant exclusively for the elite groups of Konoha. My parents attended, along with my sister. In the middle of the festivity, white-clad gunmen had entered the ballroom, faces covered by masks of porcelain. Armed with Glocks taken from the Uchihas own weapon cabinet, they proceeded to shoot at the elites. Fifteen would die, and nearly all of the old clans suffered a loss. The loss was perhaps the greatest for the Uchihas, who had lost seven members, including its leader – Fugaku Uchiha. But my family had suffered greatly as well, four members of a much smaller dynasty having died.

Neither of my parents came home that night, or any night after that.

The mass murder, or massacre as the media would call it, became the most infamous event of that year. Barely hours into the aftermath, journalists worldwide had thrown themselves onto the airplanes en route to Japan to cover the story. Within the week, everyone knew what had happened. Within the month, the pressure to find the killers had become unbearable. With the world's attention turned to the once anonymous city, and the enormous expectations brought with it, the police department was staggering on its feet.

Solving the murders had become an impossible task. In a world where everyone has secrets, and everyone has something to hide, the police were no closer to solving the case than climb to the moon. It did not stop people from openly speculating, both across the round tables in quaint little cafes and on national broadcasts. They debated why the Uchihas and Harunos were targeted, speaking of possible vendettas in the wake of the Tatsu dispute, and how the string of other powerful clans who were irrevocably connected by the murders of their own members, fit into the intricate puzzle.

However, in spite of the theories, it was inevitable that the traces went cold, and by 2001 there were no more trails or lose ends to follow.

Eventually, of course, the media went on to new tragedies. By September, when the twin towers disintegrated and covered Lower Manhattan in clouds of grey, toxic dust, no one longer remembered the tragedy in Konoha.

Except, of course, Konoha itself. The citizens knew the murderers walked freely amongst them, but no one spoke of it after the case officially became cold by December that same year, not even those broken families left behind in the aftermath. Most hoped in their desperation that the silence would somehow appease the killers, so they would not resurface.

Of course, I knew nothing of this, six years old as I was, naïve and blind to the world. What I knew, was the story my sister told me to make me understand why parents would never come home.

It was a story about monsters and their secrets. How our family, the clever, deceiving Harunos knew many secrets, but that they had come into the possession of the secret of a monster. And that monster would do anything to keep it in the dark, and that was why my father never came home, and why my mother never woke up from the hospital bed she was sleeping in. She also told me not to speak of it, not to ask too many questions, hoping that by keeping silent, the monsters would never come back.

But I know now that mere hope is not enough keep the monsters at bay. They lurk in the shadows like dark secrets, only revealing their true nature when they risk exposure.

And secrets, as Charles Sanford would say, are made to be found out with time.

This is my story.

I warn you now.

It's not a fairytale.

It's not a story about the monsters under your bed or in your closet, or knights in shining armors.

Neither is it a tale of forgiveness, or of trials and retributions.

This is a story about secrets, and the people who keep them.

In life as in death.

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><p><em>20th of August<em>

_1999_

The Graveyard

His uncle had told him that Uchihas never cry. To cry was to show weakness.

And Uchihas were _never_ weak.

But no matter how many times Sasuke repeated the words like a mantra in his head, the tears spilled over and his throat was constricted with sobs that he barely could hold in. Unable to stop, he instead attempted to conceal his teary face, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt, though nothing escaped Madara's watchful gaze.

He stood before the Uchiha monument, towering and dark and freshly carved, in the heart of a city of stone.

'_The city of the dead'_, as his tou-san had muttered last summer, when they laid down ojii-san's ashes in the family tomb beneath the monument. He had never liked the graveyard. But now he was buried in it, his ashes placed side by side with okaa-san's and Shisui-kun's. Their names adorned the bottom of the stone, a harsh reminder of who was not waiting for him at home.

The air was thick with incense that burnt in his eyes and nose, and the smell of fresh flowers which had been laden down before the monument as a tribute to the dead. He hated it. Hated the flowers and the pitiful looks and all the "_sorrys_" that really did not mean anything. And he hated, _hated_ that his aniki had betrayed him. Left him here, alone save the ghosts.

'_He has chosen to study abroad'_ Madara had told him, sneering. '_He could not handle the situation'. _Then his expression had softened slightly. '_Now it is just me and you'_.

Sasuke sniffed, clenching his hood tightly in his small hands. He would never forgive him. _Never_.

"Hi".

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin, stumbling in his feet as he abruptly turned to look at the newcomer.

The first thing he noticed was pink hair. It was an odd bubblegum color, crowned by a red ribbon. Then he noticed an enormous forehead, going for miles and miles before he saw her apple green eyes, looking at him with a curious expression. She could not have been much older than himself, small and pale in a black dress. She clutched a small doll in her arms, an elf with pointy ears and forest green clothes. A pointy green hat sat lopsided on its patch of dark brown hair, and it smiled goofily in her hold.

The girl was momentarily struck by his appearance. _He's so pretty_, she thought in awe, drinking in his handsome features and dark, red-rimmed eyes. A stray tear still lingered at his jaw, reminding her what her nee-chan had asked her to do.

"Are you crying?" she asked him gently.

"No!" he exclaimed indignantly, turning his head away to hide his face from her. "I'm an Uchiha and Uchihas don't cry". Yet he sniffed and wiped his cheeks and nose. The girl noticed, but hesitated. She threw a look over her shoulder, where her nee-chan stood solemnly and spoke with the man she called Hokage-sama. Her nee-chan must have noticed her questioning stare, meeting her gaze and urging her with her hand to continue. _'He's lost his parents too, Sakura'_ she had told him when she noticed Sakura staring at him_. 'Go comfort him'._

She took a tentative step towards the boy, craning her neck in an attempt to take another look at his face. But he had lowered head and pressed his fists against his eyes, fresh tears he failed to keep in running down his pale cheeks. Why he would want to hide that he was sad was beyond her understanding. Was he embarrassed maybe?

"Nee-chan says it's alright to cry," she told him reassuringly.

"Huh?" he looked at her curiously.

"She says that if you wanna cry, then you cry," she told him. "Or else you'll get cheeks like a squirrel and look like a tomato for the rest of your life". She blew up her cheeks and held her breath to demonstrate, earning her face quite a color. Sasuke's lips twitched despite himself, wiping the salty tears from his cheeks with the back of his sleeve.

She noticed with a glint of triumph in her eyes, and exhaled the hot air of her lungs loudly. Heaving a few breaths as if she had just ran a marathon, she looked at him and smiled. Sasuke's cheeks reddened, and embarrassed that he would react that way, he pulled the hood farther down.

Her smile faltered, interpreting his action as trying to hide his crying again.

"It's alright," she told him gently, straining her neck until her ear nearly touched her arm in order to take a peak beneath his hood. He kept his gaze firmly on his sneakers, feeling his face heat further under her scrutiny. "I won't tell anyone," she assured him, though it did not have the effect she had hoped for.

He continued to stare at the ground, feet shifting uncomfortably on the stones as if he was in pain.

She bit her lip indecisively, at loss of how to make him feel better. She lowered her head in thought, wondering what she could do to comfort him. And then a thought struck her, eyes landing on the doll she hugged to her front.

She only hesitated for a moment before pulling it up in front of her. Mister Puck smiled at her, beady black eyes shining. It was her favorite doll, the one that nee-chan had given her when she was an itty, bitty baby. She had told her that it had been Uncle Kenji's first, and then he had given it to nee-chan when she was a little baby. '_He is your protector_. _He chases away the monsters with his sword and gives you sweet dreams at night'_.

She looked at the boy, so sad and lonely, and back to Mister Puck. Maybe he needed someone to chase away the monsters and give him sweet dreams. Her eyes watered at the thought of parting with her best friend, and she pressed him against her face, breathing in the smells.

Her nee-chan had washed him for the funeral, telling her that even Mister Puck could not show up dirty. Their ancestors would think them disrespectful, and punish them. She shuddered at the thought.

Sasuke looked up curiously when she had not said anything else, wondering, and fearing, that she had already left. But then her voice reached him, much closer than before.

"Here". Something soft and plushy was pushed in his face. Surprised, he inhaled sharply, drawing in the scents of soap and sunshine and fresh laundry on the line. He took a step away from the offensive object, coming face to face with the smiling elf. He eyed it suspiciously. "You can have him if you want," the girl told him, pressing the doll closer.

"I don't want your stupid doll," he exclaimed petulantly.

The girl gaped at him, thrown off by his unpleasant behavior. But she quickly gathered her wits and glared at him, her temper rearing its ugly head.

"Mister Puck is not stupid!" she told him crossly, pressing the doll back to her to comfort the elf for the nasty name the boy had called him. "He's really brave," she added more softly, chastising herself.

His brow furrowed, staring at the elf with skepticism. He had a hard time believing that a doll could be brave. Especially one so goofy-looking. But somehow it reminded him of cousin Shisui.

"Nee-chan gave it to me so that he could protect me," she told him, smiling. "He scared away the monster under my bed". She grasped the handle of his sword. "He broke it when fighting it off, so Uncle Kenji made him a new one". She told him so proudly, before letting go of it, and stretched the doll out towards him once more. Reluctantly he accepted, taking hold of its plushy waist. Sakura smiled as he studied the doll, though struck by a sudden melancholy.

"And he keeps the ghosts away, so you can sleep at night," she quickly added, lips quivering slightly. He noticed, and handed the doll back.

"It's your doll. Keep it".

She shook her head vigorously. "I have nee-chan," she told him, pointing at the girl standing by Hokage-sama. "She can chase the monsters away and she'll keep company".

"But," she hesitated, not wanting him to cry again, "you look so lonely".

He was struck by her words, instantly reminded of the cause of his loneliness. His throat contracted painfully and his eyes stung with unwelcome tears, face scrunching up in an effort to hold it in.

The girl reacted the only way she could, grasping the hand holding the doll and pressing it against his chest as she leant forward and hugged him. Sasuke was not a boy used to physical contact, the only sorts he knew of were the hugs of his kaa-san, the flicks of his aniki and being carried around on Shisui's back. Her hug brought the memories to the surface, and while once more shocked by this odd girl's behavior, he could not contain the sob that escaped him.

"It's alright," she told him in her childishly comforting voice, awkwardly stroking his back. "You can cry all you want".

And he did, until there were no more tears left and his head ached painfully, and he felt so embarrassed that he did not even dare look up from where his face was pressed against her shoulder. She did not mind, continuing to stroke his back even as his breathing calmed and she no longer felt the hot press of tears against her shoulder.

But eventually comfort turned to awkwardness, and reluctantly he stepped away, still clutching the elf doll. The girl was not affected by the uneasy way he shifted on his feet and avoided her gaze, simply smiling.

"Mister Puck will take care of you," she assured him, throwing one last, longing look at the doll. It continued to smile, unaffected by its change of owner. Sasuke dared a look at her, and blushed when she smiled at him.

There was a distant call that drew their attention. A dark-haired girl beckoned with her hand at the girl. She hesitated, turning back to Sasuke with an almost regretful expression.

"I have to go now," she told him solemnly. Then she added, as an afterthought: "Remember to wash him," she told him seriously. "_Especially_ to funerals. If he shows up dirty your ancestors will be really, really angry and punish you".

Sasuke was baffled by her words, staring at her as she smiled and skipped towards the older girl. She grasped her hand, turning to wave and smile one last time. He continued to stare until they passed the gates and disappeared in the distance. When he could no longer see them he brought his attention to the elf, turning it so he could study its goofy smile.

'_Mister Puck, huh?'_

The doll remained motionless, but its beady eyes gleamed in something akin to challenge. It was probably his imagination, but it was enough to convince him to put it inside his sweatshirt as he headed for his uncle, who was speaking in hushed tones with a tall, pale man with golden snake eyes.

Sasuke never attended a funeral again, nor did he ever wash Mister Puck, fearing that the smell of soap and sunshine and fresh laundry – smells associated with the odd little girl, would disappear. But as he grew older, and stopped believing in monsters and ghosts, the doll lay forgotten, and with it, the girl who had given it to him.

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><p>AN: One of the things I was not satisfied when going back and reading the story was the prologue. I am much more satisfied with this version than the original one. I believe it makes a better setting for it.

I also thought it was fitting to add a scene from the graveyard, as it was by the death of Sasuke and Sakura's parents that the story itself would begin. And I also wanted to satisfy all of you sasusaku fans out there. I am not sure if I managed to keep the two in character, but I hope I managed to pull it off.

The next chapter will be up shortly, I only need to make some minor changes to it. Underneath is a list of translations.

And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

Yours always,

Kasumi Ayane

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><p><strong>Translations<strong>:

Jiji - grandfather

Tatsu – dragon

Otou-san/tou-san – father

Ojii-san - grandfather

Okaa-san – mother

Nee-chan/one-san – older sister

Aniki – older brother


	2. Chanel and Champagne

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Chanel and Champagne**

_Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden._

_- Phaedrus _

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><p>A man worked in the darkness of his room, his pale face illuminated in the bright screen of his computer.<p>

Password:

_Please enter code._

Long, elegant fingers moved over the keyboard, the clicking of buttons the only sound in the room. Impatiently he pushed his glasses further up against the bridge of his nose, before tapping a fingertip repeatedly on the enter button.

Enter.

_Password_ _accepted_.

AUGUST, 12TH

WHITE MASSACRE

Long sweeping paragraphs, gruesome photos, statements and endless lists appeared on the screen.

Click this icon to print this page.

_Click_.

* * *

><p><em>1<em>_st__ of June_

_2009_

Uchiha Summer Residence

The air rang with pealing laughter and crystal, and the sky was sparkling with radiant stars. The French doors leading into the gardens were thrown wide open, letting in the sweet fragrance of the warm June air, and lanterns swayed in the elegantly curved trees. The ballroom was a sight to behold, with its high-vaulted, ornate ceilings and walls of white panels and gold crown moulding reminiscent of grand palaces such as Versaille and the Winter Palace. Two enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like sparkling suns, casting a golden glow upon the polished floors and caught the glitter of diamonds and expensive champagne. Young couples littered the dance floor; handsome men in tuxedos and pretty young socialites in exquisite gowns.

Flowers were everywhere, courtesy of the Yamanakas; exotic orchids stood tall and regal in vases of crystal; lilies and roses wound around the golden pillars and the pristinely white marble railings, decorated with green and white ribbons. Buffet tables with exquisite white cloth were covered with giant strawberries in ornate crystal bowls and chocolate fondues, towers of croquembouche adorned with marzipan roses and mouth-watering éclairs. A uniformed band looking more akin to French officers under Louis XVI was placed on the grand marble staircase, filling the house with the elegant tenors of classical music, while one of the waiters, smart in black and white, poured Cristal Champagne into the top of a tower of glass flutes, and the guests clapped in delight at the little show. Cocktails were balanced on ornate silver trays, silks and chiffons fluttering around people's feet as they went in circles, mingling with the ones they considered important. Which in this case was everyone.

For this was a party exclusively for the upper class society of Konoha. No charity cases, middle-class companions or anything that was less than millions worth in money. Preferably billions, though not everyone was that lucky. If you weren't an Uchiha in any case. Or a Himoto.

These two families now ruled the top of the social ladder, perfect and glamorous in their custom-made tuxedos and haute couture dresses. However, it was not that great to be a guest under their roof if you were a Haruno.

The party had not been a pleasant affair for Sakura. She had come to deeply regret accepting the invitation on behalf of her aunt, Amaterasu, who was usually the representative of her family at such parties, the moment she met Sayuri Himoto, the party's hostess. She was stunning in her champagne-colored Oscar de la Renta-dress, with complimenting Harry Winston diamond necklace and glittering Stuart Weitzman slippers, though with an unattractive frown on her lips the moment her eyes fell on Sakura's familiar face. Not that Sakura had done anything to deserve such a welcoming, though apparently she was to blame for her older sister's past relationship with her present fiancée. But as she had learned from watching her sister and aunt at formal parties, she hid all her thoughts behind a sweet smile and congratulations for the happy couple before walking away with all the dignity she could muster.

By dinner she wondered what on earth she had been thinking when she said yes to come here. With Sayuri watching her every move as though she suspected her to suddenly jump up on the table and proclaim what a big mistake Itachi was doing in marrying the cobra (fond nickname Serena and her friends had come up with in high school). The idea was utterly ridiculous, for Sakura knew that Serena was more than capable of dealing with Sayuri herself.

But Serena was not here, she reminded herself sullenly. She was off to Beijing or Paris for performances, as she had done the last three years, happily unaware that her former-present rival Sayuri was engaged to her lost love Itachi. Sakura grimaced. She probably would not take it well - if she did not know already. Perhaps if she had decided to watch Good Morning Konoha when she had finished her morning jog, enjoying breakfast and then **bam**; _We are happy to announce the engagement between Sayuri Himoto and Itachi Uchiha_! Croissants would fall and cappuccino spill. And Serena Haruno would _**never**_ return to Konoha.

Wincing at her own train of thoughts, she quickly grabbed a Vesper Martini from one of the waiters, daintily holding the crystal glass in her hand as she looked for something to distract herself with. Unfortunately for her, the only thing available in her line of vision was Sasuke Uchiha. He was in her class, the dark, handsome boy she had crushed on since third grade – and who was an utter and complete asshole. She could still remember that day in sixth grade when she had mustered up all her courage to ask him out on a date, only for him to stare her down with that infamous Uchiha-glare and tell her she was annoying.

That pretty much summed up their relationship. He was the demi-god, Lucifer incarnate, and she was the annoying, pink bug not worthy of his attention. It still stung, after four years of continuous rejection, that he thought so little of her. That he could never think to like her the way he liked those other girls. She had no problem thinking of him that way (more like fantasizing), but then again, he did have access to much prettier girls, who did not come in possession of abnormally large foreheads or bubblegum hair.

That was probably what was worse than seeing him, completely ignoring her existence - being forced to see him with other girls. Unfortunately, tonight was no exception. Presently he was groping the barely covered ass of his date, a certain Rin Hoshi in her chemistry class. She was pretty, with dark hair and a killer body courtesy of liposuction and breast enhancements (_really_, what parent gave their fifteen-something kid a gift card to a cosmetic surgery clinic?).

Ino would always make jokes of Rin, and all the other girls and Konoha High School who were known to have altered their looks. Her blonde BFF had always frowned upon the use of cosmetic surgery, claiming it was cheating and just showed how little confidence they had in their natural beauty. Ino, was all natural of course.

But the means to an end had landed Rin, not Ino or Sakura, on the arm of Sasuke Uchiha.

Silently cursing her bad luck she glanced down at the clock discreetly put into her new diamond bracelet. _Only nine._ That left her with three bloody hours before her ride would show up. That would be three hours more of fake smiles, Sayuri's glares and visions of groping hands.

'_Wonderful'_, she thought sourly, '_just simply wonderful_.

Sullenly she took a sip of the cocktail, feeling the bitter aftertaste reflect upon her current situation. Had she known this would be the result of coming, she would have politely declined her aunt.

But at the time she had not known of her cold reception, and had enjoyed the attention Amaterasu seldom gave anyone but her wards, Sakura's cousins, in France. Her aunt, elusive and absent, was just that perfect femme-fatale from the movies that was every girl's idol. And Sakura was her greatest fan.

She had never done anything halfheartedly.

Though Amaterasu had not visited Konoha herself, as there was a rather large problem she needed to take care of in Paris, her absence had been forgotten upon the arrival of her substitutes.

Her aunt had sent her very own tailor to dress her up for the weekend; and had created the elegant evening gown she now adorned herself with; strapless, black chiffon with delicate stripes of pink to match her hair, and an eccentric, yet tasteful bow below her bust. She had been surprised at how much larger her breasts looked in it, and wondered if she should order a few more creations from the tailor before he left on Monday. Her long, pale pink tresses had been styled by a professional hairdresser, curled and pinned, gliding white threads and coiling locks of hair about her head, leaving some to fall elegantly down her neck to grace her shoulders and naked back.

And the icing on the cake had been the beautiful diamond choker; a lovely custom-made creation of multiple strands of diamonds with a large, heart shaped locket dangling from it, which had been delivered by two suit-attired men with sunglasses and guns in their jackets on her doorstep. The gems sparkled whenever she moved in the light, reminding of shiny little stars. The result of this outfit had given her a lot of attention from her fellow peers, whom she admitted gleefully, were not as well-dressed or sophisticated as herself. In her own eyes, she looked like a woman. The boys seemed to agree with her, as she had been asked to dance more than once, but now she just wanted to go home. Sayuri's eyes were starting to burn holes in the back of her head, and her own were getting red-rimmed at the sight of Sasuke's hot make-out session behind the flowing curtains by the French doors.

"Hey, Forehead Girl!"

Suddenly, a more appealing distraction came into view despite the unwanted reference about her forehead - which wasn't that wide, thank-you-very-much! Ino Yamanaka made her way through a throng of senior boys in all her radiant glory, ignoring their leering gazes on her diamond-clad cleavage, her sparkling blue eyes fixed on her best friend. A real smile found its way to Sakura's lips, and she abandoned her bitter drink on a passing tray.

Ino looked amazing in her new, sky blue Louis Vuitton silk dress which clung to her body like a second skin, showing just how the intensive training at the fitness center had worked on her now completely flat stomach. It showed even more of the perfectly tan skin of her back, which was left completely bare, the cut of the dress ending an inch or so above her rear. Her perfectly curled hair shone in the glare of the crystal chandelier above them, lips glossy pink and her eyes competing with the sparkle of diamonds she had adorned her neck with.

"Hey, Ino-pig," she greeted, returning the favor of calling the blonde by her most hated nickname. But the bubbly girl was in a far too good mood to care if she was called a pig or not. She stopped right in front of her, effortlessly taking hold of the chilled glass of strawberry daiquiri that passed by. Her piercing blue eyes swept the crowd, halting at the couple still going at it in the corner. Her lips drew back in a mocking sneer.

"You've seen Sasuke's accessory of the week?" she asked her friend, though she already knew the answer. Both girls had been acutely (and unhealthily), aware of Sasuke Uchiha's movements ever since fourth grade. But after an incident Ino never talked about that happened in beginning of freshman, she had become less aware of him, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Sakura nodded, pursing her lips in disdain.

"Don't worry, Forehead," Ino smiled comfortingly, taking a sip of her drink. "She won't last the week".

Sakura shrugged her delicate shoulders.

"Whatever," she muttered, stealing the daiquiri from the blonde and taking a sip. It tasted sweet and was deliciously chilly, washing away the remnants of the bitter vodka. "It's not like he will be looking to date _me_ next week".

Ino offered her a sympathetic look.

"He'll be lucky if he ever knew what he missed," she told her, an odd expression on her face that Sakura could not quite place. But she smiled at the compliment, taking another sip before handing the drink back.

"Speaking of Uchihas," Ino started, looking around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation, "I still don't get how Sayuri managed to nail Itachi". Sakura threw a nervous glance in said woman's direction, but she was busily kissing up to the dark, authoritative Madara Uchiha who stood poised calmly in the middle of the room, probably not listening to a word she was saying.

Her lips twitched.

"It's a mystery," she agreed. Then again, everything about Itachi Uchiha was a mystery. He stood loyally by his future bride's side, tall, dark and handsome like everyone in his family. But unlike his uncle, who was towering and broad-shouldered and ominous, he was lean, muscular and cloaking himself in stoic calm. His chiseled face and obsidian eyes gave nothing away, not even when he looked at Sayuri.

Well, except perhaps that tinsy bit of a moment during dinner, when his gaze had met Sakura's over the mouthwatering lamb chops. She had been stunned to be pointed out by him in the crowd (in spite of her hair radiating like a blinking neon sign), and had looked like a deer caught in the headlights as her gaze looked into his much too dark one. His eyes were unreadable as always, although she could have sworn she had a seen a gleam of nostalgia in those hard orbs. But this was Itachi Uchiha, whose emotionless demeanor rivaled only that of Madara. She could have been imagining it.

"I bet he'd leave her in a heartbeat if he saw Serena again," Ino continued, snapping Sakura out of her musings. Her eyes widened a fraction at the daring of her friend, throwing another glance in Sayuri's direction. Her sister's name was a taboo at this party, but it thankfully looked like Sayuri's Anti-Serena radar was a little off tonight. She threw Ino a glare.

"Could you be anymore reckless?" she whispered in irritation. She did _not_ want to attract the vicious glares Itachi's bride-to-be any more tonight. It was unbearable enough without the extra attention.

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" Ino pressed, completely ignoring the warning look Sakura gave her. "He's never gotten over her. See," she indicated towards the couple with her hand, the red liquid in her glass swirled dangerously, "he isn't even _looking_ at her right".

Despite herself, Sakura followed Ino's line of vision back towards said Uchiha. He watched his beautiful fiancée, his eyes completely void of emotion. No openly shows of devotion, admiration or anything remotely close to affection. It was as if he was looking, but not really seeing.

"Well, that's not our business, is it?" Sakura dismissed Ino's exclaim. It was not her business, or anyone but Itachi Uchiha. But in the back of her head, she thought it was Serena's business too. After all, the destined couple had never actually ended their relationship prior to his engagement. It just sort of…paused. Itachi had been gone since the end of his senior year, attending a private school in Manhattan, whereas Serena had been stuck taking care of her sister, never offered as much as a goodbye from him. And then, upon his return, it had been vice versa. _Serena_ had skipped town, with Itachi left in Konoha, becoming the legal guardian of Sasuke.

They had not spoken since the summer of 99.

_But_, the pinkette thought firmly to herself, it was not _her_ business.

"Maybe not, but it's Tenten's, so I make it my business," Ino replied tartly, jutting out her chin nonchalantly.

And of course, she had shifted the topic to their poor, older friend. The athletic brunette had understandably been more than just a little upset when her elder sister came in one morning during breakfast in March, flaunting the biggest canary diamond in existence, announcing her engagement to her _Itachi-kun_.

But it was not the thought of Sayuri marrying Itachi that bothered her. It was Sayuri _marrying_ at all. The wedding preparations would be, quote by Tenten, absolutely, unquestionably _horrible_. It was only intensified by the fact that she would soon have Madara as her uncle-in-law and worse - Sasuke Uchiha, whom she considered to be the biggest brat on the planet (and never missed an opportunity to tell him so) was going to be her _brother_-in-law.

The first time she had uttered those words she had made pretense of gagging, utterly horrified by the thought of ever being associated with him. And besides, she had finished lamely; Madara creeped her out.

Since then she had ranted about how her life turned from bad to worse. In the week prior to the engagement party she had not so subtly asked if Sakura would be so kind as to call her sister and tell her to get her ass back to Konoha and win Itachi's heart before she stabbed her own eyes out with a fork so she would have an excuse never to look in a wedding magazine again.

Today, upon Sakura's arrival at the party, she was visibly frowning beside her mother, and had been absent since dessert over an hour ago. Under normal circumstances Sakura would have worried for her. But since this engagement party did not exactly fit into the category of normal, it would not surprise her if Tenten was curling up in a corner somewhere, drinking away her misery with whatever alcoholic beverage she managed to get her hands on.

"It's still not your business Ino," the pinkette sighed irritably.

Ino threw her a look that clearly stated she thought otherwise, but chose not to argue further on that point.

"When are you leaving for Sydney?" she inquired instead. Sakura smiled.

Serena had planned a special holiday for them in Australia, just the two of them and the Great Barrier Reef, for an entire month.

"On Tuesday," she chimed, unable to contain her excitement. She had not seen Serena since her birthday, when she had come to town for the weekend and they had celebrated with a small party of cake and presents. Now, she would have her all to herself for a month. And while she had not told her friends, she had decided it was time to talk her into coming back for good.

Life had become lonely in the empty apartment.

"You're so lucky," Ino told her, voice tinged slightly with envy. As an only child, Ino had always longed to have a sibling to fill the loneliness of her parents' continuous absence. But due to their absence, not only from Ino, but from the marriage itself, such wishes were futile. Instead, she had watched on enviously every time Serena picked Sakura up from school, the dinners and lunches they would enjoy together and the sheer happiness they expressed every time they were reunited with each other.

It had never been like that with the Yamanakas. Ino was lucky if she was even noticed by her bickering parents – when they actually were home. Conveniently they both were abroad – one in Paris, the other in New York. And they had no intention to have her come along with either of them.

So instead of coming with her parents as she rightfully should to such an event, she was once more left in the care of her uncle Santa Yamanaka.

She threw a look over her shoulder, catching sight of her uncle speaking with the Nara men and a rather tipsy-looking Choza Akimichi. He was a younger version of her father, with the same pale-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. And much more considerate.

"What are your plans for the summer?" Sakura's voice tore her from her musings. She shrugged her shoulders as she turned back to her.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. It'll be me, Kiki and ice cream".

Though she loved her housekeeper to death, a summer without travel or friends would result in utter boredom. Not even the yoga classes she had signed herself up for at Konoha Fitness Center or the new MasterCard her papa had left her brought her any satisfaction. Tenten would be spending the summer with the in-laws on the Uchiha mega-yacht, riding the waves of the Caribbean, and Hinata was going to Milan with her family. Sakura was headed for Australia, and that left Ino with no one. Well, except Kiba, but that mutt really did not count.

Sakura gave her a sympathetic look. She knew how it was to be alone.

But although Sakura had three years of experience, she failed to understand that Ino had a lifetime of abandonment.

Ino shrugged her shoulders once more, not in the mood to discuss absentee parents, and finished off her daiquiri in a very un-lady-like fashion. Once the glass was empty, she put it down on the passing tray. Her eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief, and she grasped Sakura's wrist.

"Let's go on an adventure".

Sakura quirked a brow at her.

"An adventure?" She wore an expression of skepticism. What sort of adventure could they possibly find here?

"Yes. Let's explore this house of the dead," the blonde exclaimed, quoting Tenten's dark mumbles about the summer residence.

"What about Tenten?" Sakura searched the crowd for their friend, but could not find the brunette amongst the guests.

"Tenten Schmenten," Ino waved her hand dismissively. "She's been a bitch since we stepped foot inside the house", her nose wrinkled at the memory of their friend taking her frustrations out on them with snarky comments, "and," she paused, slinging her arm around Sakura's shoulder, pulling her closer, "if we drag her along, we'll never stop hearing her moan for Serena-chan to return. I swear that girl wants your sister back more than you".

Sakura's lips twitched involuntarily.

"Can we at least salvage Hinata?" she jerked with her head in Hinata's direction. She was standing by her father's side, enduring the attention of one needy little Inuzuka while Hiashi Hyuuga pointedly ignored her existence. "She looks like she is about to die".

Ino's eyes narrowed dangerously when one of Kiba's hands dared itself farther south than Hinata's back, causing the poor girl to stiffen and move slightly away from him.

"That mutt," the blonde muttered darkly and let go of Sakura.

As a warrior prepared for battle she smoothed out the skirt of her dress and flicked her hair over her shoulder, squaring her back and plastering on her most charming smile. She looked back at the pinkette, eyes glinting.

"Meet us by the kitchen door". Sakura nodded, watching as the blonde sauntered towards the two, exclaiming sweetly:

"Hinata-chan! There you are".

The girl looked up, relief washing over her as Ino approached. Kiba's wandering hand froze somewhere above her rear and quickly retracted upon seeing the blonde. He had always had a thing for Ino, which thankfully was a little stronger than his fancy for Hinata.

"Ino," he greeted her, pretending to appear casual by burying his hands in his pockets.

"Kiba-_kun_," she greeted back sweetly. "How are you?"

"Uh, I'm…" but before he had the chance to respond Ino had latched onto Hinata's arm, dismissing him completely.

"Hinata-chan", she spoke unnecessarily loud, "I _really_ need help with something".

Her loud exclaim effectively caught Hiashi's attention, and Ino gave him a polite smile, tugging her friend along by her arm.

"You wouldn't mind an awful lot if I steal Hinata away for a minute?" she pinned him with her large doe eyes, morphing into innocence itself. Though the stoic Hyuuga was not one to normally fall for such acts, Ino had her way of misguiding even the most suspicious parent into believing she was as snowy white as Hinata herself. His gaze swept over the two, narrowing suspiciously at the sight of his daughter's flustered face.

But then he dismissed them with a nod of his head, returning to his conversation with the terrifying Tsume Inuzuka, Kiba's mother. The girls did not waste time removing themselves from the crowd, Ino shooting a glare at Inuzuka boy as she guided Hinata through the crowd.

"A-arigato, Ino-chan," Hinata whispered softly. She was relieved to be free of Kiba's roaming hands and gone from her father's side, where she had felt increasingly insignificant.

The evening had started well for her – surprisingly so, in fact. When she had come downstairs in the dress his tailor had spent weeks completing, he had complimented her generously, telling her she looked like a nymph.

And she truly did, in layers upon layers of ice blue chiffon. The dress was dignified yet emphasizing that she was no longer a little girl. Her generous bust was wrapped tightly, complimented with an empire waist adorned with intricate silver embroideries, while the off the shoulders gently hugged her thin arms. It was all an artwork, completed by the magic fingers of a stylist who gathered her hair in a ponytail and made her look older than her tender fifteen with a brush of make-up.

For once, Hinata had felt appreciated. She had been guided to the limo on her father's arm, opposed to his habit of leading Hanabi, who had to settle for Neji, and during the introductions had presented her to the future bride and groom with something akin to pride. Dinner had gone well, and she had been extra careful to always act dignified and polite by her father's side – something she knew he appreciated. As the hours went by, the spark of hope that things would be improving between them had once more been ignited, and she had even dared strike up conversation with him.

But then someone had made an off-hand comment about Hinata being the spitting image of her mother. The reminder of his deceased wife had been the catalyst for the Hyuuga leader's growing enmity towards her as the evening went on, beginning with the criticism of the way she carried herself until it went in onto the familiar track of completely ignoring her existence. Not even Kiba's pawing had been enough for him to offer her a single glance, until Ino came in her shining armor and swept her away.

Too caught up in her own thoughts, she did not realize where they were going until Ino had brought them to a halt by a door in the far back of the room, where Sakura was waiting for them patiently.

"How do you do that?" she asked Ino in utter admiration for her acting skills.

Ino shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. "I know what buttons to push," she responded. "Now, let's start in the kitchen". She pushed open the door leading into the narrow corridor separating her from her destination. It was quiet, and with a jerk of her head signaled for the two girls to follow her.

"Why are we going to the kitchen exactly?" Sakura asked her, a little suspicious. Ino's eyes glinted with mischief as she looked at her.

"I have a craving for something sizzling, expensive and so _not_ on the menu," she happily informed them, causing both girls to share nervous glances. They both knew what that meant - expensive liquor which could quickly get them into trouble if caught.

"Ino, I don't think that's such a…"

"No!" she exclaimed loudly, turning sharply to face them. "Don't turn on me now. I need a little excitement in my life so I can get through a miserable summer without _anyone,_" she pointed back and forth between them for emphasis, "of you. Please", she clasped her hands together in front of her in pleading, jutting out her lower lip in an adorable pout, "just let me have this _one_ night of enjoyment".

Unable to resist Ino's large, pleading eyes, and feeling slightly guilty, Sakura gave in first, sighing in defeat as she rubbed her forehead.

"Fine".

Ino's smile had them momentarily blinded. She turned and skipped down the corridor, only pausing slightly outside the door before entering the kitchen.

It was large and spacious, with granite counters and dark wooden cabinets. Crystal flutes, delicate porcelain and exquisite desserts lined every surface, ready to be brought out to re-stock the buffets and silver trays.

It was abandoned, as the staff was busy attending the guests in the ballroom, leaving cases of alcohol unattended in the backroom. Ino knew this, because it was a familiar pattern at all the formal parties she had attended in the past. She had first noticed it when she was fourteen and needed a drink, finding herself a lovely bottle of tequila in Tenten's vacated kitchen during the annual Himoto Christmas party.

Sakura shut the door quietly behind them while Ino quickly located the backroom. She dived into the storage, immediately finding what she was looking for. Cases of liquor the staff had yet to bring to the guests was covering the room from top to bottom. A triumphant grin graced her lips. _Jackpot_.

She threw a glance at the door, where Sakura kept guard, before quickly going through the cases until her eyes fixed on the prize. Twelve bottles of Perrier-Jouet 2000 Belle Epoque champagne, value of 50,000 Euros, imported directly from Pernod-Ricard in Paris. She had to admit, that even though Madara Uchiha was one scary fellow, he certainly had impeccable taste. And he probably would not notice the absence of _one_ bottle. She carefully grasped the bottle, aware of the prize every drop cost, and headed back into the kitchen, eyes searching for glasses.

"What is that, Ino?" Sakura questioned her, eyeing the pretty bottle

"This, my darlings", the blonde raised the bottle up in front of them to give them a better look at her prize, "is the most expensive bottle of champagne you will ever taste".

They eyed it, mixed expressions of excitement and anxiousness. She put the bottle down on the kitchen counter in front of the girls, and grasped three crystal flutes. She gave one to each of them, and then took hold of a bottle opener perched on top of the counter. Elegantly she pushed herself onto the counter, crossing her legs and grabbing the bottle. With a flourish of movement that had come from ages of experience, she dug the corkscrew into the bottle stopper and drew it out of the slim neck with a _pop_, quickly followed by the spray of bubbles.

They all giggled delightedly, and Ino hurriedly filled Sakura's glass, yet she managed to spill some of the expensive liquid onto the polished granite. Next she leaned forward to fill Hinata's glass, but predictably she backtracked, covering the flute with her hand.

"I d-don't think this is a good idea, Ino," she stammered, imagining her father's reaction if he was to learn of this. Ino scowled, her cerulean eyes hardening with determination.

"Hinata", she warned, swaying the bottle in front of her, "either you drink this or you can go back to daddy dearest".

"Ino!" Sakura cried out, enraged that she would use that against her. Hinata looked as though she had slapped her, mouth agape in shock. Upon seeing her expression Ino regretted opening her mouth at all, the guilt clawing at her empty stomach. She knew better than to bring up Hiashi's harsh treatment of her friend, the subject as sensitive as that of her dead mother. Her eyes softened and she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry Hinata," she apologized, grasping her upper arm comfortingly. "I didn't mean it like that".

Hinata, always the forgiving one, nodded her head and gave her a brave smile, trying to conceal the glistening of tears. Of course it did not go unnoticed, and feeling even worse Ino threw her arms around Hinata's slender neck, nearly toppling them both over on the floor in the process. The champagne squelched dangerously in her hold, some droplets landing in Hinata's ponytail.

"I'm really sorry," she whispered into her neck, squeezing a little harder. Once more the petite Hyuuga nodded, patting Ino's back awkwardly. Taking it as her cue to retreat she pushed herself back onto the counter, and smiled. She dangled the bottle in front of her again.

"Can you at least taste it? We swear we won't tell".

The pleading look in Ino's eyes was enough to break down her resistance, and reluctantly she reached her glass forward. Ino could barely conceal the look of triumph as she tipped the bottle and poured the sizzling liquid into the flute. Once it was filled – too much for Hinata's taste – she pushed the glass back to her, urging her to take a sip. Slowly she brought it to her lips, tipping it slightly to allow drops of the champagne to roll into her mouth. It tasted surprisingly sweet, and she took another sip, earning her an appreciative nod from her blonde friend.

"See! That wasn't too bad, was it?"

Contentedly, she poured her own glass full, putting the bottle down on the counter. Graciously she brought the flute to her lips and took a long sip. Her eyes closed as the fine liquid hit her taste buds, and she let it roll in her mouth before swallowing, her delicate throat rippling slightly. When she opened her eyes again, she grinned like a Cheshire cat at her friends.

"Now, I think the library is the best place to start our little expedition".

Sakura's eyebrow arched up in an expression of disbelief. "The library? You never go to the library".

She shrugged her shoulders, taking another sip. "Not usually". Her smile widened, and her eyes gleamed mischievously. "But who knows what dirty little secrets the Uchihas are keeping in there".

Hinata and Sakura looked at each other, mirrored expressions of incredulity and excitement. The thought of going on a forbidden search for long-forgotten secrets was both ridiculous and exhilarating.

"But first," she raised her glass at them, "bottoms up, my darlings".

* * *

><p>Tenten Himoto was having a torturously, horrendously bad day.<p>

But that pretty much summed up the last three months as well. Horrendous mothers, torturous sisters and stacks upon stacks of wedding magazines. And today; a tedious, uncomfortable engagement party where she found herself stuck in the Uchiha summer house indefinitely.

She was leaning against a pillar, a vision in yellow silk. The luxurious fabric skimmed her form, hugging her in all the right places before flowing about her murderous black heels. Her hair was styled in glossy curls, and her lips were a flattering crimson that brought out the dark sheen in her brown gaze, making it appear black and sultry - but that might just be the alcohol. In her freshly manicured fingers was her sixth glass of champagne, though she had downed five shots of vodka and two cans of beer with Sasuke Uchiha (her bratty, egotistical brother-to-be) before the guests started rolling up the gravel driveway in their sleek Aston Martins and Lamborghinis.

They had sought comfort in alcohol and lamenting their grievances to each other in Sasuke's suite of rooms, before they were caught by Sasuke's uncle, the terrifying and right-out creepy Madara Uchiha.

Instinctively her eyes sought out the authoritative form of the Uchiha, finding him at the frontlines of the sentimental crowd admiring the dancing couple, although what said Uchiha was doing could not exactly be described as anything remotely close to admiration. His sharp, handsome features were expressionless except that condescending sneer he often took to wearing while in the same room as his nephew. He was speaking in low tones with Danzō Shimura, an even bigger creep, who had terrorized her high school until Jiraiya-sama had taken over the position as headmaster ten years ago (apparently Danzō was into short skirts, panties and pigtails).

Her eyes quickly left the duo, landing on the happy couple. She rolled her hazel brown eyes, taking another sip of her champagne. Of all the things she could not understand, was how on earth these two ended up together. Granted, Itachi had been Sayuri's lifelong obsession ever since her first day in kindergarten, but the brooding Uchiha had not as much as batted an eye in her direction until three years ago when the two of them were re-introduced by Madara at a charity gala hosted by the Uchiha Corporation.

This should theoretically have been impossible, with Sayuri's looks and charm - had it not been for the existence of an even more beautiful and charismatic girl; Serena Haruno, Sakura-chan's older sister. She and Itachi had been the "_it"_ couple in high school, destined for happily ever after and looking amazing on the prom pictures from Sayuri's yearbook. Well, if Sayuri had not drawn a goatee and mustache on Serena, that is. However, since Itachi abruptly left for New York ten years ago, there hadn't been much of an "_it"_ couple left - till her sister dug her greedy little claws in him when he returned.

Grimacing at the image they made as they gracefully twirled on the polished ballroom floor; tall, handsome Itachi in his Armani suit, and beautiful, perfect Sayuri on his arm in an Oscar de la Renta original. She gulped down the sizzling liquid in her hand. It could not wash away the bitter taste lingering in her mouth however.

She would be lying if she said that she wasn't praying to all the supernatural forces of the air and the earth and the universe for this relationship to end quicker than Sayuri could say "I do". Not only would it salvage her elder sister from a divorce a year or two into the future (no _fucking_ _way_ would Itachi be able to stand for Sayuri's neurotic and obsessive nature longer than that), it would keep Tenten from being institutionalized by the end of the summer.

"A little early to be drunk, don't you think?"

The silky voice tore her from her depressing thoughts. Her senses, sedated by the amount of alcohol she had already managed to consume, did not allow her to respond as she usually did whenever within the hearing range of this particularly pleasant baritone. Instead of her temper flaring and eyes flashing as she would turn and glare at him, she instead turned her head lazily in his direction, eyes lowered to a half-mast as she drank in the sight of Neji Hyuuga.

He was leaning gracefully against her pillar, handsome in his white suit, watching her with bemusement in his pale gaze. His close proximity sent a familiar tingling sensation down her spine, one she found difficult to hide under her present influence of mind-reducing beverage. He was ridiculously hot with his long, coffee-brown hair and almost feminine features, which by rights should have made him look like a girl. But instead he was 5 feet 7 inches of steaming testosterone, with rock-hard abs and broad shoulders and all that goody yumminess that made girls quiver wantonly in his presence.

Tenten had certainly never been immune to his charms. In elementary school she had been his number one fan girl, stalking him at every opportunity she got. When she had dared approach him one time, he had flat-out rejected her in front of the whole school, and henceforth she had grown and nurtured a hatred for him, on equal line to how much she loved him.

She would never admit it to anyone else but her loyal, ever-silent diary, she had never completely gotten over him, no matter how much of an asshole he was. That was probably why she now was sulking over him and that bitch he was fucking in the garden, in a makeshift-bedroom with only a bottle of Champagne for comfort.

But though she was able to conceal some of that attraction behind snarky comments and vicious jabs, she could not hide it from herself, or ignore that goddamn fluttering in her stomach whenever she passed him.

"A little late for your gibberish, don't you think, Hyuu-_ass_?" she responded nonchalantly, putting delicate stress on the ass she had been so fond to add to his last name.

A thin, dark eyebrow arched up in amusement.

"Gibberish?" he repeated, rolling the word on his tongue until it came out in a sexy drawl that made her insides flutter. "Adding new words to your vocabulary, are we?"

She shrugged, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in her stomach. They were not butterflies, she told herself sluggishly, feeling the effects of the alcohol begin to kick in.

"Why not?" she spoke rhetorically. "It makes these unpleasant conversations a little more colorful".

"You will have to do better than gibberish, Himoto," he told her challengingly as he leaned forward. His mouth was close to her ear, and Tenten had to use the remains of her control not to shiver. She did not answer him at first, contemplating her next words as she swirled the sparkling liquid in her crystal flute.

"You know, I have the strangest urges around you," she admitted at last, turning so their faces were almost touching. Her breath fanned over his cheek and he momentarily froze at their proximity before his arrogant demeanor returned, eyebrow arching further.

"Really?" he drawled, interest peaked. "Pray tell".

"Oh, braiding your hair, dressing you up in a romper," she told him casually, seeing with great satisfaction how that arrogant smirk of his twitched and fell. "You know, if you were just a little shorter you could pass for Hanabi's twin".

Not waiting for him to reply, she stepped around him and walked away with as much grace as she could muster in her murderous Jimmy Choo heels. She felt his ominous gaze burn a hole in the back of her head, but it only brought her further satisfaction to know that she was able to piss him off.

"Tenten: 1 – Hyuu-ass: 0" she whispered to herself triumphantly.

* * *

><p>The event was a splendid affair of glitter, glamour and extravaganza.<p>

That was at least the words his future mother-in-law used when she spoke of how she had envisioned the party, clapping her hands together delightedly, causing her diamond bracelets to jiggle and sparkle in the glare of the crystal chandeliers.

Itachi for his part could not care for the adjectives Mira Himoto used to describe the party. They could not make him despise it any less.

The regal Uchiha had never been one to enjoy lavish celebrations, quite simply because he disliked the crowds he was expected to mingle with. It was a waste of time and money (though the latter would never be an issue with him), and he thought it was a rather gaudy way of putting further emphasis on his engagement.

But it kept his fiancée satisfied, and since it was in his best interest to keep Sayuri happy, he had let her indulge herself in preparations and fittings and elegant invitations, although if he could go back in time, he would have had a say on the guest list.

He had suspected that Mira would reach out with an invitation to Amaterasu Haruno, an old friend and fellow member of the Leaf Society Charity Board. But he had not foreseen the change of events when in the stead of the stony businesswoman, was the small and delicate little sister of Serena Haruno. It should perhaps have been a relief to avoid the ice queen who had haunted most of his childhood as towering, scowling woman with red lips.

But the presence of Sakura Haruno was no less distracting or forceful than that of her aunt. In fact, if he was to be honest, she was far worse than Amaterasu. The girl had tried to stay anonymous in the crowd, but such attempts were futile when she had the same last name as his former lover – and shared a remarkable resemblance that left him blinking twice to be certain of who she was.

Though the hair was a screaming contrast to Serena's ebony locks, they possessed the same green eyes with their exotic slant and the Cupid's bow mouth that seemed to be an obligatory part of their clan's genetics. The way she behaved was also unnervingly alike that of her sister, for they expressed their emotions through their eyes and hands, and always seemed extremely delighted in sampling sumptuous foods at the dinner table.

He had observed her during the course of the evening beneath lowered lashes, finding it disconcerting that this girl could invoke sudden impulses he had long since learned to suppress. Not once in the last three years had he given into such petty urges as watching a girl across the dining table, comparing her to Serena Haruno. A girl - _a woman_, who continued to define him, past, present, despite how much he willed her not to.

But sheer will was not enough when it came to the Harunos, and suppressed emotions had returned with vengeance. Though they were carefully concealed beneath a calm demeanor, they left him momentarily robbed of control and in a worse mood than he had been in weeks.

The state of his fiancée did not help ease his growing frustration.

Sayuri had not only been greatly displeased to see Sakura Haruno enter through the double doors earlier that evening, but spent most of the night obsessively watching her as if she expected her to sabotage the celebration with some sort of declaration or emotional outburst. When the girl had suddenly disappeared from sight, she had been on a constant lookout, even while they waltzed, and Itachi found it greatly irritating.

"I cannot believe the audacity of Amaterasu," Sayuri snarled as he twirled her, golden locks swaying with the movement. He brought her back to him, his hand warm and firm on her waist. "To think to send _her_!"

Itachi's dark eyes narrowed in warning, finding himself grasping at the last straws of his patience. But Sayuri had never been the most observant of women, and too caught up in her own rage was unable to interpret his subtle attempt at silencing her. Finding no other choice in order to stop her ranting, he vocalized his displeasure.

"Enough, Sayuri," he warned her, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It effectively silenced her, and she stared wide-eyed into his dark gaze. "It is not Sakura's fault".

Somehow saying her name triggered another enraged outburst, and her eyes were almost as dark as his as she demanded to know why he would call her by her first name. Of course she already knew why – he had after all suffered through endless nights babysitting the girl with Serena, but it was her natural assumption that such memories would be forgotten the moment he placed the ring on her finger.

Usually he would know how to evade the sensitive subject of his ex, but today, with the subject walking amongst them like a large neon sign, it really did not matter how much he tried. Sayuri would still perceive it as him putting a big foot in his mouth.

Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered.

But suddenly she had gone mute, eyes plastered on something over his shoulder. It was not often that the Uchiha found himself surprised, especially by Sayuri, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He twirled them; sharp gaze searching the crowd for what had so effectively silenced her. Almost instantly his eyes found Madara, standing perched at the front of the onlookers, nursing a glass of scotch and watching them with his lethal scarlet gaze.

Their gazes met, slimming maliciously. A muscle shifted in Itachi's jaw , whereas Madara simply raised his glass in a mocking toast. Sayuri had gone stiff in his grip, while nervously trying to engage him in some shallow conversation about wedding dresses – a subject which always told him she was attempting to distract him.

Madara's gaze swept over his fiancée appreciatively, almost predatory, lips twitching into something akin to a smirk. It was unsettling, and a spark of protectiveness caused the stoic Uchiha to press the lithe woman a little closer, splaying his hand over her back. She looked up at him, lip trembling slightly at the look in his gaze. Hard resolution.

Madara would never lay hand on Sayuri as long as he was still breathing.

That man had already destroyed every relationship he had in the past, from his lover to his brother. He did not intend to let him ruin this as well. Even though, a small voice whispered in his ear, its a fragile thing they shared.

* * *

><p>Tenten snuck up the ornate mahogany stairs and down the empty corridor to the relative shelter of her temporary lodgings. Gently swaying an open bottle of Champagne she had snatched from the reception downstairs, swaggering on her black Jimmy Choos, she hummed the corny tune of "Dancing Queen" that echoed from the band downstairs.<p>

Finally locating the door to her room, she clumsily grabbed for the handle which suddenly had morphed into two hazy contours. Narrowing her clouded eyes she tried again, this time getting hold of the sleek brass with a triumphant grin. Entering the dimly lit sanctuary, she nearly tripped on the burgundy carpet and let out a curse as she stumbled into the nightstand. A sharp pain hit her as the edge of the nightstand dug into her hip, leaving an ugly cut on the fine silk of her yellow Chanel dress, while the antique lamp on top swayed dangerously.

Cursing under her breath, knowing she would get herself in trouble when her mother saw the rip, she fumbled with the lamp, nearly sending it crashing to the floor a second time. Finally, a soft red light chased spread through the room, chasing the darkness into the shadowy corners. Sighing, she slowly sank down onto the frilly pink comforter, holding the chilled bottle to her chest.

She hated pink, she thought indignantly, dismayed that her sister had chosen that color for the theme of the guestroom. But then again, her sister always did what she could to make her life miserable. Hell, even when she wasn't living at home any longer she had not stopped playing the evil sister. And it was namely Sayuri who was the reason why she had decided that her bed and Champagne was a better party than the one simmering under the floorboards.

Sighing, she glanced at the picture of her father resting on the dressing table. The picture went with her always, whether a weekend trip or a month-long holiday to Paris, crowning her nightstand or dressing table. It had been taken three years ago, when it had only been Tenten, her father and her mother. Sayuri had been busy building a career in Tokyo, leaving Tenten to live a good life as the center of attention.

It was taken in the Caribbean, when her father impulsively brought her along with a group of hopefuls in the search of a sunken ship. The ship was never found, but it had been two weeks of clear blue water, burning hot sun, beaches and just her tou-san and herself. Rui was grinning at the camera in all his sun-tanned glory, a strong arm thrown over a younger version of Tenten, also grinning.

Inconveniently, he was off to Paris for a rather important meeting regarding the still unsteady economy, which had left Japan's own business market wobbling dangerously. But Tenten knew her father preferred to work with impossible politics rather than his eldest daughter's torturous engagement. It was a well-known secret that Rui Himoto had been less than pleased when he first learned of the engagement – not only for the amount of money he burned off to see Sayuri walk down the aisle – but because he did not like the prospect of being tied to the Uchiha clan.

Granted, the Uchihas had continued to be one of the most powerful and influential clans in the city after the massacre ten years ago, but Rui had always suspected that they had been deeply involved in the ugly Tatsu conspiracy which seemed to have been the catalyst for the shooting. He felt particularly uneasy about Madara Uchiha, who had made the unorthodox decision of running Uchiha Corporations and yet keep his position as Superintendent General. Corruption had come to mind more than once, and he had worked together with Minato Namikaze in an attempt to pin him down. As of today, it had failed miserably, and now Rui found himself bound to him by blood – even if he simply was the uncle of the groom.

But Sayuri and her mother Mira saw nothing but the benefit of such an arrangement. It would bring together two of the most powerful families in Konoha, and to think of all the attention they would get from the media. '_As if they haven't already got enough'_, Tenten thought, recalling their guest appearance on Good Morning Konoha after announcing the engagement - not to mention Sayuri's mind-blowing twelve pages in Socialite Magazine_. 'Attention whores'._

She lifted the heavy magnum of champagne to her lips and swallowed. All night she had quietly snatched glasses of vodka from the bar to drown her misery, and had gone over to Champagne by the time they had cleared the dance floor. But it was not really her sister who was the cause of her miserable state (other than the fact she gave her a _pink_ bedroom for the night and would not quit nagging about her scowl frightening the guests). In fact, Tenten had not cared to think too much on the tedious wedding preparations. Instead she was brooding over the fact that her mother was expecting her to spend time with her future brother-in-law (that made her nauseous every time she said it), Sasuke Uchiha.

_Stupid bastard_. She took another deep swallow, scowling. That stuck-up brat was as bad as Neji Hyuuga himself, if not even worse. She quickly finished off the bottle of booze, carelessly dropping it beside her on the plush burgundy carpet. The last drops were spilled on the thick fabric, which would probably stink in the morning. But she didn't care. It was not her home anyway.

Sighing, she directed her attention to the rip in her dress, stroking the ruined fabric between her fingers. Her skin was a little dry, catching itself on the fine silk. Deciding not to risk her mother's wrath by damaging it further, she got up on unsteady feet and proceeded to fumble with the zipper in the back. Her fingers must have been replaced with thumbs, for it was near impossible to catch the evasive slider. Or perhaps it was simply the alcohol getting the best of her.

After some muttered cursing and more fumbling she finally got hold of it and dragged it down as far as she could, revealing the golden expanse of her back and the slight kiss of freckles upon her shoulders. Her movements were sluggish as she wriggled herself out of the luxurious fabric, revealing a set of dark red, lacy underwear her mother had forced her into. She would have much preferred a sports bra and her boyshorts, but, she admitted silently as she looked at herself in the mirror – it did not look bad.

Her breasts appeared bigger and the fabric clung to her bottom like a second skin. She drowsily let her manicured fingers brush over the curves of her body, tilting her head slightly. Though she did not have Sakura's breasts or her sister's round hips, or even Hinata's slim waist, she took pride in that every inch of her was nicely toned. But without the breasts and hips and waist, she was rarely, if ever, noticed by boys. Though she told herself she was not bothered by it, she was.

Suddenly, as by some sixth sense she possessed, she came to realize she was no longer alone in her sanctuary. She turned sharply to face her unwelcome audience with a menacing scowl on her features, though the effect was ruined by her half-lidded eyes.

Of course it was none other than Neji fucking Hyuuga.

The bastard leaned comfortably against the wall next to the entrance, arms crossed over his chest and smirking down at her.

"Got yourself an eyeful, Hyuu-ass?" she glowered, swaying slightly. The alcohol was choosing a _really_ bad time to kick in.

Neji quirked a brow at her. He certainly had gotten himself an eyeful. In fact, he had been there early enough to see her drag the zipper of her dress down, revealing the smooth expanse of her back. It had been his intention to enter then and pick up where they had left in the ballroom, but he had been caught off-guard when she proceeded to wriggle out of her dress and reveal a pair of red, lacy panties. The sight of the material clinging to her ass – which personally he thought to be one of her finest attributes – sent a familiar jolt of heat through his body, coiling in the pit of his stomach.

But the normally predatory look was absent from his gaze, and whatever witty comeback he had on the tip of his tongue did not leave his lips. Instead he looked at her, swaying slightly from side to side as if balancing her feet on the deck of a boat, with something akin to longing. She looked utterly delicious, her brown curls messy as if she had just rolled out of bed, and glazed hazel eyes beneath long, dark lashes. And her mouth, soft and pouty, the sort of way that was tempting to nip at with his teeth, made it difficult to look away.

"You should go to bed, Himoto," he told her, voice a little gruffer than he would have liked.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "_Why_?"

"You're drunk".

She glared at him, but her lids had lowered to a half-mast. "I'm not…" she protested weakly, and then she suddenly swayed dangerously, stumbling in her legs to catch her balance. He detached himself from the wall and took hold of her arm to keep her from falling over. Instead she fell into him, having a rather unfortunate effect on his already responsive body, and he felt himself harden under her. Of course that would be her cue to sink to the floor, legs giving out from underneath her like jelly, and her face being firmly pressed against his abdomen.

And she was giving no sign of trying to pull away at all.

The Hyuuga cursed under his breath, feeling his face heat up in response to her _very_ close proximity. Trying to take control of the situation he had gotten himself into, he pushed her away from him and scooped her up in his arms, not chancing another collapse. She was surprisingly lighter than he had expected, but what was worse was the feel of her skin in his hands, soft and golden and just a little too irresistible. His fingers twitched as he took her to the bed, sweeping her down on the coverlet.

Instinctively she curled up on her side much like a kitten, pulling her legs up to her chest. She looked up at him as he tugged the coverlet away from under her, attempting to let her preserve at least some dignity in the situtation, and trying really hard not to think too much on his own…_situation_. He pulled it over her body, finding it almost funny how he managed to land himself in this situation.

"Do you think I'm hot?"

Neji did a double take, staring down at her in disbelief. Did she just say what he thought she said?

She looked up at him expectantly, though her drowsy eyes were barely open.

For the first time he found himself tongue-tied by something she said.

"Go to sleep," he told her lamely, turning to shut off the light on her nightstand.

"_Do you_?" she pressed, grasping the back of his jacket as she pushed herself up on her knees. He turned, eyes automatically landing on the obvious rise of her chest. Her breasts were no longer under the fabric of the coverlet, and his mouth went strangely dry upon seeing her stare up at him with dark, desirous eyes. He gulped and silently berated himself for being such a pussy. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a girl half-naked and horny before.

"Yes, you are hot," he finally said, gruffly, painfully aware of how she scooted closer to the edge, still holding onto his jacket. They were nearly at eye level, and she was a meager inch from pressing her body against his. And of course his treacherous mind would produce some tempting images of her doing just that, those long legs around his hips as she pressed her front against him, arching, moaning...

_Fuck me._

"Now, go to sleep," he told her, half-heartedly.

Tenten was not fazed. In fact, he suspected she hadn't heard a word of what he said at all, staring up at him with a mildly disconcerting expression. This was so _not_ the time for her to think in the same lines as he was. Though she might enjoy it now she'd have him castrated in the morning when she sobered up and realized what they had been doing.

He was quite fond of his family jewels.

But she clearly wasn't agreeing with his thoughts, for in the next moment she had risen up far enough to circle her arms around his neck and pull him down in a kiss. The movement, surprisingly accurate despite her state, caught him off-guard and before he knew it he was pulled off his feet to sprawl her half-naked body, while her lucious lips remained firmly planted on his. He made a thought to resist, but then she parted her thighs and she _arched_ against him. A jolt of electricity shot up his spine and he grunted against her lips, feeling himself harden where he was so firmly nestled between her legs.

Any thoughts of playing the chivalric knight were effectively wiped from his mind, and his hands delved into the mass of silky brown locks as he took control of the kiss, slanting his mouth hotly over hers. She moaned against his lips, her legs rising to press firmly against his sides, hands clutching into the material on his shoulders. His hold on her hair tightened in response, one large hand cupping the back of her head. His tongue swept over the seam of her lips, probing, and when she willingly parted them for him, it slipped over the rows of pearly teeth to reach her own tongue.

Neji's eyes closed at the taste of her; sweet champagne and cherries, and rolled his hips against hers, barely containing a groan at the delicious friction it caused. Tenten whimpered, the noise going straight to his groin as manicured fingers raked over the sensitive skin of his neck.

They parted for oxygen, chests heaving, the blood hot in their veins. Neji's mouth lowered to the slender column of her neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses upon her suddenly feverish skin. The brunette made the most delicious sounds, sounds he had never thought the tomboy capable of. But then again he had never thought she would have the guts to initiate this, even while as intoxicated as she was.

And never had he thought she would smell of mangoes and cream.

The heady scent of her skin filled his nostrils as he slid further down, his tongue tracing her collarbone. He lifted himself from her, much to her mewling protests, but his abandonment was forgotten when he pulled her into another kiss, his tongue filling her sweet mouth as he pulled her up with him, hand splayed over her golden back, the other pulling off the strap on her shoulder.

There was a sharp rapping on the door, and the red haze was immediately gone as the young Hyuuga snapped to attention, turning towards the open doorway. Sasuke Uchiha leaned his shoulder against the wooden frame, arms crossed, watching the two of them with one of his unreadable expressions. But Neji was quite certain he could see a hint of amusement in his obsidian gaze, causing him to silently berate himself for losing control.

"Yo," he greeted the Hyuuga in his dark, velvety tenor. "Done with your girlfriend?"

Neji's featureless eyes glared at him, slim eyebrows furrowing. He looked back at Tenten, who looked thuroughly disgruntled to have been interrupted judging by her (adorable) pout. But the way she struggled to keep focus was not lost to him, and he felt slightly affronted by his own behavior with a drunken girl (even if it was Tenten Himoto). He wasn't one who took pride in taking advantage of someone. And, he inwardly winced, if she remembered this tomorrow, she might be out to cut his balls off.

"Yes," he told the Uchiha, quickly, but gracefully, rising from the bed. Tenten remained where she was, sprawled and unconcerned with her state of undress. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen and red from his onslaught, her barely concealed breasts heaving slightly. She looked utterly fuckable.

Neji refrained from groaning at his bad luck.

"Then let's go". Sasuke broke his train of thoughts when he pushed himself off the frame, moving halfway out of the door before stopping, looking back at him expectantly, hands buried deep in the pockets of his black trousers. "The others are waiting".

Neji paused, turning back to the brunette. She had curled up on the bed, eyes closed and probably already fast asleep. He had the decency to cover her with the satiny fabric that had fallen onto the floor before he shut off the light on the nightstand. Once it was done he headed for the doorway, where Sasuke was still waiting, straightening his jacket and shirt, though he was not as lucky at fixing the uncomfortable strain in his trousers. He stopped in the threshold, turning his gaze back to the slumbering brunette before quietly shutting the door.

* * *

><p>Somewhere between the kitchen and the smoking room they had lost their shoes and moved from expensive champagne to fine, old whiskey in the liquor cabinet. The library had been forgotten somewhere between thinking there was a hatch beneath the Persian rug and a secret wooden panel in the corner, and now they were taking turns on the crystal bottle of dark golden booze. Even Hinata was participating; the poor girl so unaccustomed to drinking that the one glass of champagne Ino had given her had gone to her head already.<p>

"I love you guys," Ino declared, balancing her bare feet on the arm of a dark green Louis XVI brocade couch, swaying slightly back and forth to keep herself from falling face first onto the hardwood floor. Sakura giggled, skin flushed bright red as she took another swallow of the strong liquor. She was never one for drinks when she could taste the alcohol, but at this point her taste buds had been tranquilized and the only thing she felt was the burning sensation in her throat.

"We love you too, Ino," she chirped.

Hinata did not respond at all, leaning against the back of a chair, eyes lowered to a half-mast. Sakura vaguely thought that she needed to get her some water, and mint pastilles, in case she ever wanted to see her friend again. Mr. Hyuuga would wall her up in her room until she turned fifty if he ever found out that she was drunk. But her logic was interrupted when Ino swooped down on her couch, snatching the bottle from her hold.

"Hey, pig!" she yelled, propriety long since tossed to the wind. "It was my turn!" Her hands attempted to take hold of the swaying skirts of Ino's dress, but the blonde evaded her by jumping down on the floor and springing up on the couch opposite, separated by a low, dark table. She grinned triumphantly, tipping the bottle and allowing the strong liquid to fill her mouth. Swallowing, she dangled the bottle in front of her in a taunting manner.

"It's mine now, Forehead girl". The slight challenge in her eyes was enough to have Sakura spring to her feet, racing around the table to wrench the bottle from the pig's grasp.

"What is all this?" a hard, drawling voice demanded, freezing both girls in their steps. Sakura shut her eyes, a cold shiver running down her spine. Ino visibly paled, the bottle nearly slipping from her grasp. Hinata did not react at all, leaning over the couch and struggling to keep down her dinner. Her fair complexion had taken on a green shade.

"_Well_?" The voice turned forceful, a sinister edge to its tenor that could only belonge to one man.

Slowly, Sakura turned, opening her eyes to see Madara Uchiha fill the doorway, a dark, broad presence in a tailored suit. His red eyes, fascinating yet terrifying, pinned her down, patiently awaiting her reply. Though the alcohol had all but evaporated from her system, she had lost all coherent thought, the terror of being caught red-handed by the Superintendent General clawing at her insides. But thankfully, Ino always worked well under pressure, and slipped on her most charming smile.

"Mr. Uchiha!" she exclaimed sweetly, drawing his attention away from the pinkette. He pinned her glazed blue eyes with his, eyebrows quirked slightly. "Sorry, we got lost".

Sakura's eye twitched at the lame excuse. _Got lost? _

Madara was not convinced either, but his expression had shifted into amusement, dark eyebrows arched.

"Really?" he drawled, eyeing the prize in Ino's slender grasp. "With a bottle of _my_ whiskey?" He put delicate stress on the word, causing the blonde to stiffen slightly. But her smile never fell.

"This?" she inquired, faux surprise in her voice as she eyed the bottle in her hand. "Well, it sort of found us".

In a horrid moment of silence, Sakura thought they were all going to die. But then, completely catching them off-guard, Madara's lips twisted upwards in a smirk.

"Fine," he drawled, a slight tilt to his voice. "But I suggest you go sober up".

He gave a jerk with his head, long, black mane rippling with the movement, in Hinata's direction. Sakura's gaze immediately sought the Hyuuga heiress out. She had sunken farther over the couch, eyes shut tightly and lips pale.

"Of course, Uchiha-sama," Ino chirped, gracefully jumping off the couch. Sakura stepped down instead, trying to hold onto the last shred of dignity she had left. She felt his gaze weigh heavily upon her, making the delicate skin of her neck prickle.

"Dōmo arigatō, Uchiha-sama," she thanked him, avoiding his gaze as she bowed her head respectfully. There was no reply, but she thought it to be acceptance and she hurried over to Hinata. Ino had already taken hold of her arm, swinging it over her own shoulders.

"Leave the bottle, Miss Yamanaka," the Superintendent General drawled, though the demand could not be overlooked. Her mouth twitched downwards, but she obediently put the bottle down on the nearest table, and wrapped her now free hand around Hinata's waist for further support. Sakura took hold of Hinata's other arm. The poor girl hunched over slightly as she swung the arm over her shoulders, head dangling heavily between them.

"Miss Haruno", Madara addressed her, sending another shiver of fear down her spine, "a moment of your time, if you please". It was not truly a question, for there was an underlying demand to his silky voice that she simply could not oppose.

"Of course, Mr. Uchiha," she forced the words past her dry lips, forcing herself to keep calm. Slowly she detached herself from Hinata, gently stabilizing her against Ino who threw her a worried look. She gave her a brave smile, nudging at her to take Hinata outside. Reluctantly she moved for the French doors leading into the garden, throwing one last glance over her shoulder. Sakura waved her hand, feeling as though this was the last time. Slowly she turned around to face the Uchiha, and refrained from screaming at his suddenly close proximity.

At some point he had detached himself from the doorway, and was leaning his tall form against the curved arm of the couch Hinata had previously occupied, arms crossed over his broad chest as he silently studied her.

Her palms felt moist as she clasped them together, heart hammering violently against her ribcage.

"I-is there something wrong, Uchiha-sama?" she inquired, silently berating herself for allowing her nervousness to show through.

"Calm down, Miss Haruno," he drawled. "You are not in trouble". The slight assurance in his voice had a surprisingly calming effect on her frazzled nerves.

"I have tried to get in touch with your sister", he began, causing her to meet his gaze, "in regard of the tenth shōtsuki meinichi". The tenth shōtsuki meinichi, was the death anniversary of the victims of the massacre. It was to be held on the 12th of August that same year, and representatives from each clan were expected to be present, at the very least.

"Do you have her cellphone number?" there was something about the question that unsettled her, but Madara gave nothing away, watching her with his unblinking, red gaze.

"Yes," she answered reluctantly, at loss of what to do. Serena did not like it when she handed her phone number to others, but his reasons for needing it seemed valid enough. Maybe he could even be capable of getting her to come to Konoha. It was ultimately the opportunity to have her sister back in town that made her give in.

"She's got two phones, but she only uses one while abroad. I can type it on your phone, if you want to?"

His lips twitched and he retrieved his sleek black cellphone, a Lamborghini 8800 Sirocco, placing it in her outstretched palm. His hand brushed hers, and it was surprisingly warm. Sakura had always imagined the stoic, pale Uchihas to be similar to vampires; with cold, dead skin.

She quickly punched the digits on the keyboard, the number flashing on the white screen. Once she was done she handed it back to him.

"Thank you," he accepted the phone, rising to his full height. He towered a good eight inches above her, a staggering figure with broad shoulders and such an authoritative presence that Sakura felt even smaller than she really was. "Have fun with your friends". The words sounded foreign coming from him, whom Sakura perceived to be a man who would not understand the definition of fun. But she nodded and smiled slightly.

"I will. Goodnight, Mr. Uchiha".

She quickly darted for the door, eager to get out, leaving Madara in the relative darkness of the room.

* * *

><p>Shikamaru had never described himself as being particularly curious.<p>

In fact, he thought that the less he knew, the less trouble he would get in. But once in a while, even a lazy ass like himself would be intrigued by a mystery. And that was why he found himself sneaking away from his date and the celebration like a common thief, throwing glances over his shoulder in case anyone took notice and followed him. And by anyone he naturally thought of his troublesome date, Tayuya.

The girl might play the clarinet beautifully, but when she opened her mouth otherwise it was impossible to shut her up. He had taken his chance once Sasuke's older brother and his fiancée engaged themselves in a waltz, bringing everyone's attention to the two of them. He slipped through the door to the kitchens, entering a long, narrow corridor. He paused inside, eyes fixed on the golden light beneath the kitchen door across of him. He could hear the distinctive clatter of porcelain and thuds of heavy bottles of champagne, but no one seemed to be approaching.

The young Nara did not waste time crossing the corridor, although he was not headed for the kitchen. Instead he took a sharp turn halfway through, faxing the narrow staircase connecting the kitchen wing with the bedrooms upstairs. It was strategically placed to keep the servants from using the main stairs, and therefore avoid being noticed by the residents. It was pompous really, to think even in this century that servants should not to be seen nor heard as long as it was not desired. But that was the world they lived in, and for Shikamaru, the staircase allowed him the perfect opportunity to maneuver the house unnoticed.

Reaching the top of the stairs he entered a hall that cut through the west wing, with white walls and dark floorboards. It smelled faintly of lemon and beeswax, and on a small, round table was an elegant flower arrangement of lilies.

His good memory quickly pinpointed the direction of his destination, down his left to the last door end of the corridor, by the ugly painting of a flower field. Burying his hands in his pockets, he moved languidly down the hall, eyes lowered to a half-mast yet acutely aware of his surroundings.

Coming to a halt by the door, he lazily grasped the brass handle, turning it slowly. With a simple push the door swung open and he entered a dimly lit library.

According to Sasuke it had been built about a century ago, in a neo-Victorian style with sleek oak panels and wallpapers of silk, colored black with golden patterns. The polished wooden floor was covered by Persian rugs, and Art Noveau lamps of bronze, brass and green glass were scattered about the room.

The library was dominated by an old round, oak table, which allegedly had been brought from a medieval castle in Europe, and was surrounded by high-backed chairs in a similar fashion. The table had beautiful carvings upon its legs, depicting all manners of mythological creatures.

The others had already arrived. Neji was lounging in a fat armchair by the large fireplace, nursing a glass of scotch, whereas Naruto reclined in a chair, his handmade, Italian shoe-clad feet thrown upon the table. And their self-appointed leader, Sasuke, stood tall and rank by the table, his back turned to the fire and casting his face in shadow.

"You're late," he drawled, the slightest traces of irritation in his voice. Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders in indifference, shutting the door behind him.

"Did Tayuya give you a hard time?" The Hyuuga asked him as he rose from his seat, smirking.

"She was troublesome enough," the Nara countered, seating himself in the chair opposite of Naruto, who found it his cue to remove his feet from the table.

"Tch". Sasuke seated himself as well, his expression sullen. Shikamaru noticed, but since the less he knew, the better, he did not ask. However, being the genius that he was,

Neji was the last to be seated, opposite of Sasuke. For a moment Shikamaru thought of King Arthur and the Round Table, but brushed it off. They were a far cry from knights in shining armor.

"So we are actually doing this," Neji spoke first, the shine in his featureless eyes the only sign of his excitement. There was a sharp nod from Sasuke.

"Of course we are! Dattebayo!" Of course the blonde had to ruin the serious atmosphere with his outburst, punching the air as he had a habit of doing.

Sasuke, as always, retaliated by smacking said blonde over his head.

"OUCH!" the blonde yelled and nearly toppled out of his chair.

"What was that for?" Naruto rubbed his abused head, glaring daggers at the Uchiha.

"You were noisy," he stated nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that was supposed to be authoritative, but came out as being childishly petulant.

"No, I wasn't!" Naruto shot back, glaring viciously at his best friend. Sasuke did not respond, as he was prone to do, only retaliating by glaring back at him. It quickly developed into a glaring contest, none of its participants willing to look away first. Shikamaru groaned at their antics, feeling more like an exasperated parent rather than their fifteen year old friend. From the corner of his eye he could see the way Neji smirked at their childish behavior, clearly finding it too entertaining to interrupt them. Too bad Shikamaru was not in the mood to suffer through an hour of their petty contest, wasting time and making this meeting a whole lot more troublesome than it had to be.

"Stop it," he ordered, adapting the sharp tone his mother always used when she needed to put someone in their place. Naruto was the first to look at him, caught off-guard, whereas Sasuke stubbornly kept on glaring.

"_Both_ of you". Reluctantly, the Uchiha directed his gaze away from Naruto, earning Shikamaru one of his deathly looks. The young Nara suppressed the urge to mutter his favorite word, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"We have something more important to think about," he reminded them.

Sasuke scowled, crossing his arms much like a petulant child, not one to respond well to lecturing. He knew very well what was at stake here, but the dobe had a tendency to push his buttons at the most inopportune times.

"When do we start?" Neji inquired, leaning back in his chair comfortably. Sasuke threw a look at him from the corner of his eye, lips tightening into a firm line at the sight of the arrogant prick. He looked as though he was the king of the world, just because he was a year older than them.

"When Shikamaru has gone through the files in his father's office," Sasuke responded eventually, turning his gaze back to the Nara boy expectantly. He rubbed his neck in discomfort, not at all liking what he was expected to do during the holidays.

"Mendokusē," he muttered under his breath, beginning to doubt his mission. Though he was not worried about not obtaining the files – he knew very well where the state's attorney kept the manila folder about the massacre – but the risk of exposure was as high as fifty percent. If not by his father, then by his secretary, who would then tell his father, who would tell his mother, and he would be chopped to pieces and served for dinner. He flinched at the image he conjured in his mind, his head on a silver platter and an apple in his mouth like a goddamn boar, facing the hungry expressions of his parents.

"Doesn't your uncle have that information?" he asked the Uchiha, though he already knew it was a futile attempt. "Why am I the one who has to do all the troublesome work?"

"I can't get access to Madara's files," Sasuke retaliated, scowl deepening. He had tried once, attempting to hack into Madara's computer, and got caught in the process. Madara had surprisingly not been enraged as he had expected him to be, giving him a smack over the head and leaving it at that. But he had been careful about his computer and the manila folders ever since, keeping them under lock and key either in his office or in that safe behind the Renoir painting in his bedroom.

He met Shikamaru's gaze with a demanding look. "You on the other hand can get hold of your father's files".

For a moment they glared at each other. But Shikamaru, finding it too troublesome to let it become a contest (that sort of petty little games he left to Naruto), and sighed in defeat.

"Mendokusē. Fine, I'll check. But what are you going to do all summer?"

No way in hell was he going to be the only one doing troublesome investigations. He pinned Sasuke with his gaze, now the expectant one. The Uchiha was not fazed by the look, but uncrossed his arms and folded his hands in front of him, elbows on the table.

"I will go over the timeline of the investigation and see if I can get something out of Mr. Himoto".

It was Mira and Sayuri Himoto's ridiculous idea to place them all on a boat to better get to know each other. Sasuke silently wondered if it was a test to see who would come back alive, for if he knew his future sister-in-law, Tenten, she would be more than happy to poison his food and have him thrown overboard when no one was looking. But Ambassador Himoto would be there, and he seemed to be an alright fellow – perhaps even the easy type to get information from if he offered him enough brandy.

"There is no point in engaging everyone until _you_ have completed your part," he continued, giving Shikamaru a pointed look. The Nara groaned, but made no further comment on the issue.

"Is this going to be enough?" Their heads snapped at the Hyuuga, who had straightened up in his seat. Sasuke's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" Naruto spoke up, leaning forward.

"The files are fine enough, but shouldn't we try and collect the stories from the witnesses?"

"They are in the files, Hyuuga," Sasuke reminded him, rolling his eyes. The Hyuuga bastard was always trying to take charge of things.

"Not every single detail. Besides, we are not simply looking at the crime itself – we are searching for the catalyst. The reason why it happened".

Shikamaru shook his head. "Things are too circumstantial in regards to the reasons, Neji. Too many theories, too little evidence to discredit them". Kami knew how many documentaries he had watched these last couple of months. He could not believe some of the theories people spewed, from unlikely claims of terrorism and government conspiracies to the right-out ridiculous, such as alien vendettas. But even the likeliest theory was built on circumstantial evidence that really did not lead anywhere.

"But we have to start somewhere," Neji pressed on. "I suggest we head straight to the source".

"And what would that be?" Sasuke demanded indignantly.

"Serena Haruno".

They froze.

"_What_?"

"She was there". Neji continued, stressing each word. "She saw _everything_. Many theories build on the Tatsu feud and Waizu Haruno's death. She was there when he died. She was there during the feud. Why not ask her?"

Shikamaru snorted. "Like she would want talk to anyone of us".

She was more likely to quit dancing and turn emo than talk to them. If there was one thing he had learned about the massacre, was the ear-deafening silence. People would not, or could not, revisit those memories. Almost as if they were afraid.

"She's not like the adults," Neji reminded them firmly. "She might even be willing to talk to Sasuke. They, after all", his lips twitched, "share history".

Sasuke scowled at the reminder. He knew perfectly well that he was connected with Serena Haruno, but the inconvenient truth was the fact that he was Itachi's little brother. And Itachi was Serena's ex. Something in that equation told him that attempting to ask questions would be a complete and utter failure.

"What if she says no? Or worse, tells our parents that we've asking about what happened?" Shikamaru was not very eager to let his parents know he was snooping around in something that, according to his father, was none of his business.

"I bet she would tell her little sister". Their expressions were of mirrored surprise at Neji's suggestion.

"Sakura-chan?" Naruto stared at the Hyuuga with wide eyes. It was widely known that he had a crush on the pinkette, and Neji's suggestion wasn't something he was taking a liking to. Would he _use_ Sakura-chan to get information? The young Namikaze shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not too fond of Neji was suggesting either.

"You can use her to get to Serena". Neji met Sasuke's dark gaze, his words filled with conviction.

But the Uchiha shook his head in response.

"It's too risky. In order to do that I would need to let her in on what we are doing". And by telling the little sister, it would be very likely that she would tell Serena.

"Isn't that a risk worth taking?" Neji challenged. "Look, I'm in on this because I want to find whoever murdered my father. I'm not here to play detective, I am here to make someone pay for what they did. Either you want to do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this, or you don't".

The words hung heavily between the two stoic characters. Sasuke's eyes had slimmed at the accusation that he was too scared to take chances. He was _not_ a coward. But unlike the Hyuuga, he did not want to set things in motion prematurely. If Sakura told Serena, the risk was that she would tattle to his brother – or worse, his uncle – and then whatever work they put into this investigation would be a complete waste. Yet, there was a logic to Neji's words that nagged him.

Serena Haruno unquestionably _was_ a possibility. First-hand information from a reliable witness was invaluable – and with her grandfather's death and the feud she must have seen _something _that was off. And that something might very well be the key to unlock the secrets regarding the murder of his parents.

"I will think about it".

"Sasuke…" Neji urged him, but it fell on deaf ears.

"_I_ _said_: I will think about it". The finality in his tone ended any further protests, leaving them in awkward silence.

"Fine". Neji got up from his seat, thoroughly insulted. He glared down at the Uchiha. "Are we done here?"

"Yes," Sasuke snapped. "For now".

* * *

><p>Simonard &amp; Sorel<p>

L'avenue George-V, Paris

9th of August

Madame Simone Lenoir was a femme-fatale with bleach blonde hair, red-painted lips and nicotine-stained teeth. She looked like she had been pulled straight from one of those film noirs from the 50s, aside from her expensive, custom-made grey Chanel suit, which was the current fashion of staff at Simonard & Solel. She was the image of nonchalance behind her enormous desk, heels on the table and comfortably leaning back in her leather chair. Sharp blue eyes studied the woman opposite to her, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips.

"Well, _Sirène_, it is done," she spoke in heavily accented English, her voice husky. She lifted a manila folder from the desk, tossing it gently across the polished surface to land right in front of her client.

Long, slender fingers took hold of it, flipping it open to reveal the stack of long-awaited documents. She looked up from the papers, and allowed Madame Lenoir to see her smile sincerely for the first time since she entered the office two year ago.

"All you need to do is to sign it," Lenoir added dryly, though silently pleased with herself. It was not often she came out victorious facing these sorts of trials - and this one had been particularly ugly. Her colleagues had told her it was a losing battle from the start, facing off against someone as powerful as Amaterasu Haruno. But they had not taken into consideration that her own client was just as good.

She took a small moment to study said client as she reached for a pen, since it was likely the last time she would have her coming to the office. She was surprisingly small and petite, barely reaching five feet and three inches, though she made up for it with killer heels and a forceful presence. Her hair was long and raven black, whereas her skin was pale in contrast, instantly reminding the woman of the story of Blanche-Neige which she read to her two daughters every night. She was _un_ _très belle femme_, a perfect mixture of classical beauty and exotic traits that turned heads in the street.

When the young woman first had entered the office two years ago, she had to admit she was skeptic in taking on the case, assuming her to be just a pretty face. She supposed that was the first mistake she had made when taking Serena Haruno as her client.

For the young woman had proven herself to be more than just worth the paycheck. Cynical, professional Simone Lenoir had actually found herself genuinely caring for the girl. Hence, she had done something she had never done before – she made the case personal.

It had taken two years of their lives, for Amaterasu Haruno was a woman of great money, power and influence, and was not to be trifled with. But her niece had brought weapons of a different caliber, throwing Lenoir as well as the little army of attorneys in Amaterasu's disposition off-guard. With cunning, endless preparations and just the right amount of incriminating evidence, they could now reap their victory.

_It had been two years well spent_, she thought as she watched the sweet fruits of success. Serena's name was written down with elegant strokes of the pen, black on white, finalizing it. She paused when the last syllable had been dabbed into the paper; looking up with such a serene expression that Lenoir found her ice heart cracking.

"Thank you, Simone," her young client told her, so heartfelt and sincere. "Thank you for everything".

For a moment the lawyer found herself tongue-tied, before she collected herself. Her expression was one of nonchalance, but her eyes were smiling gently.

"Nonsense. This is what you paid me for".

Serena shook her head.

"No. You did far more than what I paid you for".

There was a pause as the advocate found herself stunned a second time_. 'Unbelievable'_, she thought to herself. It seemed that she had underestimated Serena yet again. Never would she have thought she would be thrown off-guard by a simple thank you.

She supposed the girl had gotten under her skin. Had it been under any other circumstances, she might have been irritated by that fact. But this time, she found herself smiling.

"You welcome," she accepted kindly. Then she added: "It was worth it".

"That it was," Serena agreed, as she pushed the folder back across the desk and rose from her seat. She was balancing on six-inch heels, but had no trouble walking gracefully. She grasped the black Burberry trench coat carelessly thrown over the back of her chair, shrugging it on.

"Mail me the files when they are processed, will you?" she turned to the Madame, flipping her long dark locks over her shoulders.

"Of course," the French advocate drawled. "I suppose you are going home now, then?"

Serena smiled, picking her brown Prada handbag from the floor.

"It is time, don't you think?"

Simone quirked a thin, blonde eyebrow at her.

"_Oui_," she agreed, "I suppose it is".

"Give Claude and Abigaile a hug from me," she told her as she flung the bag over her shoulder, hands quivering slightly. Simone noticed, but said nothing of it.

"I shall," she promised, finally pushing her feet off the table and rising to her full height. She sauntered around her desk, hands clasped behind her back as she came to a halt in front of her client. Even with heels on, the older woman still rose several inches above Serena's head.

"Take care of yourself," she told her seriously, before reaching out and enveloping her in a hug.

It was Serena's turn to be thrown off-guard. Simone Lenoir was not one for affection of any kind, yet here she was, hugging her tightly. Slowly she returned it, pressing her hands against the woman's back. "And if you need a lawyer, _always_ call me".

They stepped away from each other, sharing a grin.

"I will," Serena promised. "Au revoir".

The sun shone brightly when she stepped out of the firm and onto L'avenue George-V. The street was bustling with life, as most of the 8th arrondissement this time of day. Serena could feel the excitement bubbling over, causing her hands to shake.

She was barely able to wrap her head around the fact that she had done it. She had won.

She had _won_.

"Taxi, s'il vous plait!" she called a passing vehicle, her normally even voice high-pitched with elation. The driver hit the brakes and the taxi came to a screeching halt some yards away. She skipped towards it, heels clicking merrily against the pavement, unable to conceal some of her almost childish excitement. The driver looked up curiously, smiling politely at his new customer, who was positively glowing. Opening the car door, she slid into the worn leather seat.

"Where to, Mademoiselle?" he asked her, adjusting the mirror to get a look at her face. _Beauté_, he thought admiringly.

"Charles de Gaulle". Her smile widened even more, making her dimples appear. "I am going home".

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that was the second chapter done!

In this chapter you were introduced to the main cast, and got a peek into some of their agendas, although some probably are not making any sense at this point. Not much happened here, for it is more of an introduction to the characters and their relationships with each other. For those who have read it before I have changed quite a few scenes. There is no skinny dipping, the scene with Ino is gone (her issues will become clearer as the story progresses and I did not want to put emphasis on it too early in the story), as well as the scene with the boys. In the original story their intention to investigate the massacre did not become clear until further into the plot, but since this will be a driving force to the story, as well as being the source to quite a lot of trouble, I thought it was best to put emphasis on this early. Also the scenes between Neji and Tenten were changed, and particularly the bedroom scene (which is more of the way I envisioned it to be in the original but was too much of a coward to actually write it).

I also added a scene in Itachi's POV, simply because I fancied it, and a more proper introduction to Sakura's elder sister, (and my most beloved OC) Serena Haruno. And her visit to the attorney's office is no coincidence.

Underneath is a list of translations and explanations of characters that some might not recognize or whom I have made up to fit the pieces better together.

The next chapter is almost down, so it won't be too long to the next update!

I must say I was really happy with the response to the prologue! Ten alerts, five favorites and already seven reviews!

A very special thank you to reviewers Lunar Clockwork, moonfairy014, Chantrea Moonbeam, LilyVampire, KawaiiGrape, Reignashii and newreader! I am particularly happy to see LilyVampire, Chantrea Moonbeam and newreader following this re-write!

To Chantrea Moonbeam - to tell the truth it was Damleg's KHS which inspired me to start writing this story back in 2010. I was immediately taken by the scene between Sasuke and Sakura in the hospital, and the way she gave him her bunny. Originally I had thought to add a similar scenario into the story somewhere further into the plot, but when I started to re-write the story, I thought it fitting to start the story with their first meeting at the graveyard after burying their parents, which is essentially the driving force behind the plot.

And of course, please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

Yours truly,

Kasumi Ayane

* * *

><p>Characters you might not know much of:<p>

Santa Yamanaka – male member of the Yamanaka clan, and a part of the canon series. He participated in the war, but none of his relations to characters such as Ino and Inoichi are explained. In my story, he is Inoichi Yamanaka's younger brother and the uncle of Ino.

Choza Akimichi – father of Chouji Akimichi, friend of the Naras and Yamanakas.

Sayuri Himoto - is my own OC and currently the beguiling (maybe not) fiancee of Itachi Uchiha. She is also Tenten's older sister.

Mira and Rui Himoto - the parents of Tenten. Since Tenten has no last name and apparently no relations in the canon series, I equipped her with a bothersome mother and most doting father - and the somewhat evil elder sister (yes, I'm evil).

Serena Haruno - Sakura's older sister and the former lover of Itachi Uchiha.

Amaterasu Haruno - the aunt of Sakura and Serena Haruno

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

Japanese:

Dōmo arigatō – thank you

Arigato – thank you

Shōtsuki meinichi – death anniversary

Dobe – idiot, dead last

Mendokusē – troublesome, what a drag

French:

Sirène – Siren

Blanche-Neige – Snow White

Un très belle femme – a very beautiful woman

Oui - yes

Taxi, s'il vous plait – Taxi please

Beauté - beauty

Charles de Gaulle, or Aéroport Paris Charles de Gaulle - is a large airport in Paris


	3. Change of Seasons

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Change of Seasons**

_All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy_

- Anatole France

* * *

><p><em>11th of August<em>

Konoha

Konoha had not always been the city for the rich and famous.

Looking back, only three-hundred years separated the pulsating metropolis from the backwater town it had been before. In the past, the small town had been overruled by the forests and mountains it was surrounded by, nestled within the Chūgoku region between Hiroshima in the south and Matsue in the north. The trees consumed the land, preventing farming, and their only source of nurture was the trade of timber for wares such as rice and fish. But the town's fate would be irrevocably shifted upon the arrival of four families, who would later be called the founders of Konoha – Senju, Uchiha, Hyuuga and Sarutobi. They were old, noble clans from the northern part of Honshū, who were determined to build a city of peace, wealth and prosperity.

They came to Konoha in the height of the Edo period, when a widespread deforestation had caused an increased demand for timber in the shipping industry. The clans used it to their advantage, selling the timber which surrounded the town and earning a steady income. The money in turn was used to invest in building of roads linking the town to Hiroshima and Matsue, becoming an important trading route throughout the Chūgoku region. As a linking point between two cities, the town grew exceptionally fast to accommodate the needs of the merchants, with tea houses and brothels and merchant associations. Within the next century, the backwater town had grown into a sophisticated metropolis for merchandise, commerce and banking facilities. But unlike most of the regions, Konoha was not ruled by a daimyo. Instead, it would be ruled by the man who carried the title of Hokage.

Of course, the founding families fought for the position. The Uchiha clan and the Senju clan had the strongest candidates; Madara Uchiha the First and Hashirama Senju. In the end, Hashirama was found to be the most suitable candidate, whereas the Uchihas were left in charge of the security of the city, founding the beginnings of the Konoha Military Police Force. It was the building up of an age-long feud between the two most powerful clans in Konoha, which only ended when nearly all of their members were wiped out ninety years later.

In the wake of the Second World War, which had destroyed much of the region, Konoha rebuilt itself as a capital for international trade, shipping and commerce. From the late 50s it grew sensationally fast, becoming a mismatched puzzle of traditional architecture, structures of metal and glass and the occasional European manor house. Over the years, people sought refuge and new beginnings in the city, and by the early 80s populated wealthy men and women from all across the globe – from American heiresses to Greek business tycoons.

The city soon learned that these particular citizens had special cravings, such as Burberry trench coats, Jimmy Choo boots, shiny red Ferraris, caviar and ridiculously large swimming pools. By 2009, Konoha was popularly referred to as the Cradle of Luxury; a playground for the rich and famous. As of such, designer boutiques, massive shopping malls, quaint little French cafes and expensive restaurants grew like manicured weed all across the city. Takai Mall was only one of the many results of this new industry, but it was by far the most impressive one. It was a mind-blowing twelve stories of designer shops, seamstresses, restaurants, boutiques and even car dealerships, and it was the very center of the world for all those young and wealthy teenagers infesting the city.

One such young and wealthy teenager was Ino Yamanaka – heiress to the biggest florist company in Japan, daughter of the wealthy French aristocrat and fashion designer Jia Yamanaka and the extremely affluent business tycoon Inoichi Yamanaka. She was also the golden child of Takai Mall, infamous for her monthly shopping sprees at the expense of her father's MasterCard, and featured almost weekly in Socialite Magazine for being a highly admired avant-garde original, always in lead of the fashions from Paris and New York. Wherever she went, whatever she wore – the others followed.

This summer she had made herself particularly noticeable by shopping three new wardrobes for the summer season, landing herself in the fashion section of all the big gossip magazines in the city every week, or in the party section, either on the arm of playboy heir Kiba Inuzuka or her makeshift boyfriend Idate Morino. The holiday had become extremely boring with the lack of her friends and her parents, who at some random point decided to try and mend their relationship (again), in Venice. Now she was back at Takai Mall, as she was every week, but unlike most of the holiday, the mall itself was not the reason for her visit.

It was the annual back-to-school-shopping-spree, which in essence was shopping; however it also marked the reunion with her girlfriends. The girlfriends, if someone asked, were her clique, consisting of a Haruno, Himoto and Hyuuga. And Ino herself, of course.

Since the summer of 2005 it had become their tradition to meet up at the mall after a long holiday in Italy or Miami or Beijing, to buy new attires for school and talk about their trips. Now they were seated at their regular table at Ereganto, one of the upscale restaurants that crowned the third floor. With a pile of bags adorned with the logos of Chanel and Dior and Anna Sui at their feet, they enjoyed a nice little luncheon, gossiping - and, if deemed appropriate (_always_, in Ino's opinion), comment on how the other diners dressed.

Dressed in Christian Dior's black silk shorts and a stunning blue, three-quarter sleeved military style jacket from Club Monaco, Ino was the epitome of today's fashion - literally. Of the girls, she was undoubtedly the most fashionable, or as Tenten stated; fashion-_obsessed_. That was probably true. But none of them minded, because they visited her closets more often than their own. And besides, is it not better with ten pairs of Jimmy Choos instead of just two?

"So, I was thinking Burberry, and then Gucci," the blonde chirped happily as she dug her fork into the baby lettuce on her platter. "Burberry's got an _ah-mazing_ new clothing line for the fall season".

"T-that sounds great, Ino," Hinata responded in her usual stutter, smiling gently to her friend. Ino smiled at her, about half a head taller in her four inch Jimmy Choo booties, as always, since the timid girl favored couture flats. For today's shopping spree the timid Hyuuga heiress donned a creation of pearl-grey chiffon from Chanel, which swayed elegantly below her knees, speaking of dignity and innocence, which in truth was the essence of Hinata. Ino would have preferred her in three-inch heels and flower patterned dresses with a lavender belt accentuating that tiny waist of hers, but when it came to appearances the Hyuuga was steadfast as a mule. Well, sometimes.

"I'd rather visit Adidas". Not surprisingly, Tenten protested to the idea. It was not a secret that the sports freak was far more interested in running shoes and the newest sports bra rather than couture and Italian leather. Her interests were reflected in her clothes; Levi's dark blue jeans, black and white Nike sneakers and a black, _over_sized Metallica t-shirt. She munched on a cheese burger that left Ino's mouth strangely dry, but the blonde only rolled her eyes in irritation.

She quickly turned her attention to Sakura farthest down the line, hoping to engage her into the conversation. The petite pinkette had been unusually silent since they met up outside Starbucks. Even the greeting she had given them had been a dull one – matching her clothes really. She usually put an effort into looking chic during these shopping sessions, often donning a new outfit Serena had bought her, but the dress she wore was to put it nicely - a bore. It was a deep burgundy, knee-length number, but she had ruined its potential with the black leather jacket and her brown Manolo booties. Her near waist-length tresses had been pulled up in a ponytail in a cheap attempt at keeping the unkempt hair in place, and she had barely used any makeup. And Ino, being Ino, knew perfectly well what ailed her friend. It had become a recurring subject the last three years – Serena was not returning to Konoha.

Serena Haruno was perhaps one of the few former heiresses who were known to climb the ladder of success in dancing shoes. She debuted on stage as the lead role as Odette at Palais Garnier in Paris, and had been popular ever since. Thus, her job as big sister and parent to Sakura was put on hold most of the time, except during the holidays. Ino knew the sisters had enjoyed a whole month of quality time in Sydney, going to spas and riding the waves on new surfboards. But as usual, when the holiday ended and Serena yet again had to leave for another job, Sakura wanted her to come back with her to Konoha. That had not happened.

"Sakura, are you alright?" Tenten nudged her arm, drawing her attention.

"Oh, I'm fine," the pinkette brushed off the question with more nonchalance than she felt.

"Are you going to the graveyard tomorrow?" Tenten asked her tentatively. Sakura shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm not sure, Tenny," she answered, biting her lip. "I don't want to be alone".

"We'll be there for you," Ino assured her, leaning over the table to squeeze her hand gently. "Right, Hinata?"

She nodded vigorously, smiling kindly. "O-of course!"

Their assurance made the pinkette smile slightly, but they were not enough to convince her. Of course they would be there for her, hold her hands and cry with her in front of the monument, but she did not want to be the only Haruno standing there. She had hoped that Madara-sama would have been able to convince Serena to be there, at least to visit the graveyard, and maybe even attend the memorial service in front of the Senju Palace. It was just one day, but apparently, it did not fit into her busy schedule.

"I'll think about it," she eventually told them, and slowly they let go of her. Sakura lowered her apple green eyes to study her chicken salad, pushing the cherry tomatoes around with her fork.

"So, how was Italy, Hinata?" Ino turned towards the Hyuuga in order to steer the subject over to something more pleasant. But by the look on Hinata's face, it hadn't been the best of choices. She stiffened, before forcing herself to relax.

"F-fine".

In truth, it hadn't been fine. While Neji enjoyed the privilege of being Hiashi's personal assistant and Hanabi basked in the attention of her father and his colleagues, Hinata had pointedly been ignored. After Sayuri's engagement party things had taken a turn for the worse, although he had never discovered her indiscretion with the whiskey bottle. Since her presence had not been wanted, she had spent her days swimming in the pool and aimlessly walking through the streets of Milan, Kō always a step behind. Shopping had been of little comfort, and the only time she genuinely felt happy was that day when Kō surprised her by showing up with a Vespa and had taken her on a tour through the Italian landscape. The nights were the hardest, for she still struggled with sleep, haunted by the screaming tires and collision of metal that had landed her chained to a hospital bed for months.

Ino knew it had not been fine, but chose not to pressure her into elaborating. Things were bad enough as it was at the Hyuuga Compound without her friends reminding her of it. Instead she directed her attention to Tenten, who was busy munching on the last bite of her burger.

"Speaking of holidays, did you kill Sasuke?" Ino asked the brunette jokingly.

Tenten scowled in response.

"What, worried that I killed your lover boy?"

The snarky comment wiped the smirk right off of Ino's suntanned face, and her jaw visibly clenched. Sakura looked at her curiously, slightly surprised by the spark of fire in her gaze.

"He's not anything to _me_, Tenten," she spoke forcefully, taking the brunette by surprise. "But soon he will be your _otouto-kun_". She put delicate stress on the words, using all the vocal ammunition her mentor Mina Seriyobu, queen bee and bitch extraordinaire, had taught her. _'Tongues are sharper than swords, Piggy,' _she always told her when she sat with them in the stone courtyard or in Mina's boudoir. _'Find the right word and dig it into their skin'_

Tenten stared at her, dumbfounded, and for a moment she actually thought it was Mina speaking. It effectively silenced any comeback she had prepared, the words rolling back down her throat. Everyone stared at the blonde, completely taken aback by her near condescending tone and the fact that she had just completely disregarded _Sasuke Uchiha_, the boy she had crushed on since third grade.

Of course, Ino had never told anyone of her friends how she abruptly lost interest in the brooding Uchiha. It had been early into their freshman year, when she managed to catch his attention during one of the parties the queen bee had hosted that fall. She had just celebrated her fourteenth birthday, and felt like the luckiest girl on earth when Sasuke had looked at _her_. She had given him her virginity that night, but afterwards she would not even want to touch him with a fireplace poker.

Not only had he been inconsiderate and clearly into it just for his own enjoyment, crushing any romantic childhood fantasies she had of the mysterious boy, but neither had he cared for the fact that she gave up something truly special to him, something that she could never get back. It had hurt more than she would ever care to admit to be rejected like that, and she supposed it had been shortly afterwards that she had lost control of herself.

Their table was left in awkward silence, until Hinata, ever the peacemaker, started up conversation again.

"D-did your holiday g-go w-well, Tenten-chan?" the timid Hyuuga inquired to the brunette, who had continued to stare at Ino in utter disbelief. She tore her gaze from the scowling blonde when Hinata asked her the question once more, now a little more forceful.

"Alright, I suppose". She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. The trip to the Caribbean had been someplace between awkward and amusing, for clearly the two brooding Uchihas were not used to being stuck in a small space with each other. But she and Sasuke had gotten along surprisingly well, mostly due to their mutual dislike of Sayuri. But he was still the biggest brat in Japan - especially when he continuously rubbed it in her face how she had tried to drunkenly seduce Neji _fucking_ Hyuuga into her bed. Which, she thought with just a sliver of satisfaction, had been successful up to the point that the stupid Uchiha (_thankfully_) had interrupted.

She would have stabbed herself to death with a fork if she had woken up the next morning in bed with him.

"Well, look who it is. Little Miss Forehead and her group of losers".

She was torn from her thoughts when an all too familiar voice reached her ears. Turning their heads, the girls were greeted by the ungodly sight of Karin Uzumaki and Ami Yariman; the scandalous bitches of St. Konoha Academy.

They towered over them, hands on their hips and wearing matching expressions of disgust, as they tried, with no success, to appear intimidating. After spending most of elementary school and middle school being targeted by their bullying, even Hinata had become immune to their snarky comments. Sakura studied them silently, slightly apprehensive.

Karin, she had to admit, looked good in her white Versace summer dress and Dior sunglasses, having styled her hair into glossy curls today and put on an appealing amount of make-up, in contrast to a year back when everything she wore was about catching the attention of every boy at school. Her cleavages had usually ended somewhere above her navel, and her face had been caked with expensive foundations that made her skin look orange. Ami didn't look too bad either, although the attempt to color her hair black had not been too successful. The roots were still purple, but at least it matched the purple sundress and black sandals she wore.

The two had made themselves known at St. Konoha when both had dated Sasuke Uchiha last year, temporarily becoming the center of attention in their class before they were carelessly tossed away. After that, basketball players and other athlete stars were targeted, since the brooding Uchiha never took the same girl twice, and his three closest friends, Neji, Naruto and Shikamaru, would never look at his leftovers.

"Well, look who it is; the bitch and bitch junior," Ino drawled, effortlessly appearing as though the two were boring her, though in reality they pissed her off. "Haven't seen you around in a while".

Karin's crimson eyes twitched, before a sickly sweet smile graced her glossy lips.

"Hello, Ino-_pork_. Had fun playing with yourself this summer? Has been rather lonely, don't you think?" So the bitch had been reading the gossip pages lately. Ino would have to give her points for actually knowing _how_ to read.

"It's been _great_," she responded, sarcasm dripping from her tongue like venom.

"Really?" A red eyebrow arched up in mock-surprise. "I've heard you haven't had cock in a while. Is that why you're looking so fat?"

There was an eerie silence as Ino registered the insult. Her friends threw her nervous looks, afraid that she might curl her fingers around Karin's neck and squeeze the breath out of her. To call Ino a pig was forgivable, as it was an inevitable consequence of being named Ino, but to claim she was fat was almost like willingly placing a bullet between their eyes.

Her cerulean gaze narrowed a fraction in warning, but she nevertheless leaned back comfortably in her chair, studying the two bitches with a sardonic smile on her lips.

"_Really_?" she mimicked Karin's voice. "I've heard that _you_ haven't got laid in a while. All your little adventures finally catching up to you?"

Ruby eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Ino leaned forward, and unconsciously the two intruders leaned forward too, anticipating what she was going to say.

"You know, the STD".

Tenten sneered at Karin, whose face suddenly matched her hair. Sakura burst out laughing, directing Ami's attention to her.

"What are you laughing about, Forehead Girl?" Ami spat viciously, effectively silencing the pinkette. "Has someone popped your cherry yet, or are you still saving yourself for Sasuke-kun? Not that he'd ever touch _you_".

Sakura's mouth tightened into a thin line, a fiery anger boiling over in her suddenly dark eyes.

"Watch it, Yariman". Tenten left her seat as well, attracting the attention of several lunch guests.

"Or else _what_, Himoto?" Ami challenged her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Would you mind?" a dreadfully familiar voice cut into the argument. Turning sharply, it was none other than Mina Seriyobu, obviously disturbed from enjoying her _Insalata Caprese_ judging by her expression. "Some of us are trying to enjoy a _quiet_ meal". The girls stiffened, staring wide-eyed at the queen bee, whom by the way, looked fabulous today. The Dior halter dress hugged her body perfectly; emphasizing her breasts and narrow waist, and the color matched the dark blue of her eyes. She was eating with Takita Narubi, her BFF since first grade; a tall, sexy black-haired girl in a pretty blue maxi dress.

Karin and Ami visibly paled in the face of perhaps Konoha's biggest bully, who fixed them with a withering look. The two had often been target for Mina's cruelty after the gruesome mistake of flirting with her longtime boyfriend the first week of freshman year. They certainly had not forgotten being soaked in chicken blood at homecoming. And it did not even matter that Mina had graduated from Konoha Academy – she was still as terrifying as ever. And Kami were they terrified of her.

"M-Mina," Karin squeaked, looking much like a helpless little bird in the face of a hungry cat. Mina eyed the redhead almost hungrily, imagining in that evil little mind of hers just what to do with this misfit. Ami remained deathly still, her face a sharp contrast to her black and purple tresses. The queen bee did not respond, only wrinkling her nose as if something disgusting had just been shoved in her face. And then, she pinned Karin's ruby gaze with her icy blue ones.

"Get out of my sight before you spoil my appetite". The laced threat in her words was not to be mistaken, and the two girls did not need to be asked twice. They hurriedly turned and rushed from the café, red-faced and terrified. The four friends stared wide-eyed at Mina, who tore her gaze from their retreating backs once she was satisfied that they had created enough distance between themselves and her table, and fixed it on them. They slimmed maliciously.

"What are you looking at?" Instinctively they looked away from her, almost as though they were seated in the school's courtyard and feared retribution from her merry band of minions.

"Man, she can really make you feel like dirt under her shoe," Tenten mumbled. Even the tough tomboy was frightened by the girly girl in stilettos and designer dresses.

"Why do you think she was queen bee?" Ino whispered, almost afraid that the girl would hear her. But truth was that Mina couldn't care less for their opinions, for they were far below her on the social ladder and hence were insignificant.

Ino leaned over the table, throwing a nervous glance at Mina, who had returned to her meal.

"Speaking of which, she'll probably terrorize the university just as she did at St. Konoha".

Most of the students who had attended St. Konoha Academy, the most renowned private high school in the city, would take at least one semester at the even more renowned University of Konoha. It was a towering structure some miles from the city, perched on a hilltop and surrounded by ancient green forests and waterfalls. Every Hokages since Tobirama Senju had studied at this university, along with several brilliant minds such as neurosurgeon Tsunade Senju, Superintendent General Madara Uchiha and Sakura's own father, Kenshi Haruno. It was inevitable that Mina Seriyobu would also attend before venturing to some upscale college in the US or a university in Tokyo, where her boyfriend now resided in a penthouse by the harbor.

"Probably," Tenten muttered, lifting her Diet Coke to her lips. In truth she cared very little for the queen bitch, although she was relieved that she was no longer terrorizing their school.

"So, are we going to Burberry now?" Ino inquired, making quick assessment of the table. Sakura's chicken salad was half-eaten but the girl did not have an appetite, Hinata had dutifully eaten every last bite of her sandwich and Tenten had stuffed her face with her burger long ago. The girls looked at each other for any traces of wanting to linger, maybe order a second course, but when no one spoke up they got up from their seats and picked up their bags. Ino quickly linked arms with Sakura, while Tenten and Hinata trailed behind them.

Some tables away a middle-aged man put down his cup of coffee, slowly picking himself up from his seat and slapping some yen onto the white tablecloth. With deliberate care he followed the little clique as they stepped out of the café, oblivious to his watchful gaze and the small camera he was armed with.

* * *

><p>Brooklyn, New York<p>

New York was splendid in the hot summer months, bright and rather pleasant to the eye, with sparkling glass and Central Park blooming like a bright green eye within the heart of a city of concrete and metal. But he had never liked the city, filled to the brim with odors that left him nauseous. It was mainly the smells he did not like about big cities; there were simply too many people, with their sweat and synthetic fragrances. He grimaced as the stench of simmering fat, overheated French fries and strong perfume hit his sensitive nose, already longing for the fresh air and forests which surrounded his lodgings. Another thing he detested were the crowds; how it was so easy to bump into filthy beggars and badly dressed, sweaty men returning from work.

But in big cities there was a lesser chance of being recognized. And anonymity was what he needed today. He made a strange character, donning a trench coat and black hat which reminded the passersby of the cliché detective movies from the 50s. Yet, people never stared at him for long, despite his odd clothing in the sweltering heat that hung like a burning menace above their heads.

That was something else about cities like New York – you could see anything walk down the street, it be a homeless man or a woman dressed up in a chicken suit – and never bat an eye.

It was utterly fascinating – so different from his homestead where nothing went unnoticed by the citizens. And to be honest, it was quite liberating. He never felt the urge to press himself against the nearest wall and keep his eyes firmly at his feet, for no one would take notice of who he was or what he was doing on Lower Manhattan. It was exactly this which he depended on. Every step in his plan was based on him managing this on his own, without catching the attention of a curious passerby.

So far, the mission had been successful.

It was a relief when he once entered the Plaza Hotel, where noise was muffled and the air was cold and clean. He drew in a heavy breath, straightening his back as though the tranquility gave him strength, and headed for the elevator. No one noticed him, assuming he was already a guest returning from business. Pushing the button with a gloved finger, he tapped a lacquered shoe on the polished marble floor, odd eyes observing his surroundings discreetly. A golden-skinned woman in navy blue business suit lined up beside him, and a boy in torn jeans and tattered t-shirt, absorbed in his iPod. No one looked at him. It felt good.

With a familiar _ding_ the elevator doors slid open. Silently they stepped inside, accompanied by a petite blonde carrying a wailing toddler on her arm, and a middle-aged tourist with cheap clothes and sandals. And suddenly the silence wasn't there any longer. Music floated from the loud speakers, complimented by the heavy metal booming from the boy's headphones and the indignant outbursts of the golden-skinned lady.

His gloved hands clenched on the handle of his leather briefcase, feeling the tension build up in his body as the volume rose. Heartbeat quickened, blood thumped in his veins, teeth grinding loudly in his ears. Had anyone looked at him they might have noticed the clenching jaw, the haggard appearance, and perhaps wondered why someone wore sunglasses and gloves on a hot summer day. However, they didn't, and as the floors went by, the silence slowly returned till he was completely alone.

He let out the breath he had held, sighing in relief. God, how he hated crowds. Eyes, unnaturally green, counted the numbers. Thirty-third, thirty-fourth, thirty-fifth…_thirty-sixth_.

_Ding_

The doors slid open, and he was greeted by the smell of lilies adorning a small table in the thankfully vacant corridor. Exiting the elevator, he glanced down on the business card in his hand.

_Maxmillian Dobbs_

_Private Investigator_

_Plaza Hotel, New York_

_36th floor, room 330_

It wasn't so much of a business card as it was a direction to the man's office. No phone numbers or e-mails. He had been a businessman himself, and knew difference between class and fraud. However, despite a bad card, the man had talent. And that was after all why he needed him.

320, 321, 322…

He hoped he had gotten the information he needed. He would not look forward to postpone the flight. Time was running out.

327, 328, 329, _330_…

He halted outside the shiny rosewood door, the odor of beeswax hitting his nostrils. Taking a deep breath, preparing himself to face his employee. '_It will be fine. You will be done in minutes'_

Sighing, he knocked a leather-clad hand against the smooth surface.

"Enter," the deep baritone of a man reached him through the door.

Reluctantly he grabbed the handle and swung the door open. The suite he entered had been re-arranged into a makeshift office. His mouth thinned in distaste, recognizing the smells of liquor and rotting fast food. There were piles of paperwork and boxes of half-eaten pizzas, and by Kami, coffee stains everywhere.

If the papers had as much as a spot on them…

Behind a worn oak desk sat a short, pudgy man with double chin and mustache, surrounded by towers of documents and files. His greying head was balding, and he had small black eyes akin to those of a pig. Shabbily dressed in a suit that was ill-fitted and wearing cheap cologne, he could only be described as a sleazy middle aged man. He looked up from his laptop when the door slammed shut, smiling at the sight of his most anticipated client.

The man looked different than he had imagined. The voice from the phone calls and the words carefully written in e-mails spoke of an immaculate businessman, though the character in front of him was quite something else. Trench coat, bowler hat, sunglasses and _gloves_. Who on earth wore gloves on a hot summer day? But he acknowledged that the attire was expensive. Soft leather, tailored clothing. A rich man; like his paychecks confirmed.

"Ah, Mr…"

"Mr." The man cut him short, not wanting to give him a name to connect with. Dobb nodded, as if knowing what he was thinking.

"Right," he replied smoothly, rummaging his desk for what his client had ordered. Ah! Smiling wider, he presented a large folder to the man. He removed his sunglasses, and their eyes met. '_Odd eyes'_ Dobb thought as the man grasped the papers with delicacy, as though they were made of thin glass.

"Here are the files you requested. If there is anything else you want…"

"Thank you," the odd man cut him off, a slight tilt to his voice that told the investigator that he was a foreigner, and busied himself with going through the papers.

If everything was there, he would not require Dobbs' services anymore. His eyes froze on a bunch of pictures at the very back, pinned to the manila folder by a paper clip. It was pictures of a girl, the unmistakable pastel pink tresses and apple green eyes beaming at him. She walked alongside a blonde girl, carrying bags from Burberry and Chanel.

"When were these taken?" he demanded.

"An hour ago". Mr. Dobbs leaned back in his chair, pleased with himself. "My colleague sent them just before you arrived".

"Amazing what technology can do these days," his client mused as he went through the pictures. The pictures were good, taken at a distance, yet not missing any details.

Perhaps he would require one last thing from him.

"Indeed". Mr. Dobbs agreed half-heartedly, watching the odd man as he carefully placed the files in his small briefcase.

"Is there anything else you require?" he pressed and was once more pinned down by the man's odd gaze.

"As a matter of fact, I would like the number of your colleague". Mr. Dobbs' smile faltered, though he quickly recovered.

"Oh, I can arrange something," he told him smoothly, taking out a notepad and pen, not about to lose his best client just yet to his colleague. He still wanted a share of his fat paychecks. "What is it that you need?"

"_His number_," his client spoke more forcefully, finality in his words.

Dobbs' double chin sagged in obvious disappointment. It did not go unnoticed by his sharp gaze.

"You shall be handsomely rewarded," he assured him, finding it far easier to simply buy him off than use brute force to obtain the same result. "Another 10.000, perhaps?"

The promise of more quickly loosened Dobbs' tongue, and his fingers eagerly scribbled down digits upon a greasy piece of paper he would have to sterilize before touching. His nose wrinkled in disdain, but said nothing as he patiently waited for him to be done. The sleazy man eagerly handed him the piece of paper. He took it daintily between his thumb and index finger as though he was accepting something dirty. Mr. Dobbs' double chin blew up like a frog at the insult, but said nothing.

"Dōmo arigatō". His client bowed his head graciously, his voice suddenly heavily accented.

'_Japanese?'_ Dobbs was not much of a linguistic, but he had heard a few phrases at a Japanese themed party when he still worked in the firm.

"I shall have the money wired to you by the end of today," the odd man promised. He put the piece of paper into the pocket of his coat, grasping for his briefcase.

"Sayōnara". Once more he bowed his head, before turning on his heels and headed for the door, coat flapping with his hurried steps.

"Just a second, Mr." the investigator called. His employer halted, broad shoulders tensing. Slowly he turned back, staring at the man behind the desk with his unnerving gaze.

"There is one more thing you should know before you return to Konoha". Mr. Dobbs smiled, revealing nicotine-stained teeth. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, double chin jiggling.

"At the right price, of course".

* * *

><p>San Hills<p>

The Yamanaka clan had started out as a small family of botanists. They had been greatly fascinated by plants and exotic flowers, but they had never earned much on their living until a few decades ago, when Ino's most revered great-grandfather opened a flower shop in downtown. It had become a great success, and it did not take long before he had opened a second and a third shop. By the time he was thirty-four he had created a business that could sustain his family, and by the time he lay on his deathbed at staggering ninety-four, he and his sons had built an empire on florists and orchids. Today, they were a leading industry for flower production, flower arrangements and delivery services. They were the leading corporation in this region of Asia, with shops and greenhouses in every city from Hiroshima to Singapore. As a result of their wealth, the once hard-working family lived a sweet, easy life.

But Ino would sometimes have preferred it if her parents lived a more busy life, for in the wake of no real work to do, they tended to put all their effort into disliking each other. It had become particularly bad after her _maman_ had stopped working as a fashion designer a few years ago due to depression and anxiety. Their troubled marriage took a turn for the worse, with Jia discovering all of her husband's lacks and faults, whereas Inoichi chose to stick his head in the sand, further worsening his wife's perception of him. But for the sake of their family _(which Ino found to be a poor excuse as the years went by)_ they had attempted several reconciliations, marriage counseling, therapy and separation - all which at some point failed to mend their tattered relationship. And this summer they had attempted a last ditch effort to rekindle their passion on a holiday in Venice, but less than three days after their return they were back to old habits.

Ino furrowed her brow as she steered the sleek grey Mercedes-Benz CLS through the coiling landscape of San Hills, dreading her return to Maison Blanchard. The climbing hills were the home to sprawling mega-mansions, perfectly manicured lawns, sleek red Ferraris and the occasional white picket fence, basking in the glare of the sun high above the pulsating vein that was Konoha. It was a beautiful sight this time of year, when everything looked bright, new and shiny. Maison Blanchard, the high seat of the Yamanaka clan, was particularly stunning.

In the wake of her great-grandfather's first success, he had bought a piece of property high above the city, where he could place his monument of glass and stone. Maison Blanchard was a stunning piece of French architecture, pristinely white with columns and tall-arched windows, perched on the very edge of the steep hill. The road coiled beneath its structure, and Ino could see the sparkling glass of the stunning conservatory, containing all manners of exotic plants and flowers that her grandfather used to collect on his travels. She rounded the last corner and climbed the small rise before rolling onto the gravel driveway. It stretched through a bright green lawn and circled a large fountain standing guard right in front the marble steps of the entrance, before stretching towards the large, white garage by the gardener's house to the left. The rise of the hills ended there, becoming a far-stretched exotic garden with rare flowers, apricot trees and manicured bushes, reaching all the way to the white gazebo by Lake Mikadsuki which separated some of the grandest estates in the region. On the other side of the water, which blossomed with white water lilies, was the Hyuuga Compound, ancient, pale and regal amongst willows and Japanese maple trees.

Ino eased the car to a halt in front of the steps. Predictably, the housekeeper Kiki, a small, plump woman with the warmest brown eyes and dimpled smiles appeared in the doorway. Her long, dark hair was neatly gathered in a bun in the nape of her neck, and her cheeks were flaming red from spending time over the stove, preparing dinner. Behind her came the gardener's son, Inari, a tall, lean boy with unruly dark hair and large, black eyes. The young heiress smiled at them as she shut off the engine and proceeded to climb out of the vehicle. She tossed the keys to the boy, who caught them with practiced ease.

"Could you take my shopping bags to my room when you've parked it, Inari?" she inquired as he passed her for the driver's seat. He nodded dutifully.

"Of course, Miss Ino". But then he froze, mid-step, turning to look at her.

"Miss Ino, could I…"

"Yes, yes", she waved him off with her hand, "you can borrow the car tonight. Just _don't_ crash it again".

"I won't, Miss Ino. Arigato!"

"Miss Ino, you're back early".

Her good mood evaporated at the sight of Kiki's nervous smile. Her eyes hardened and her fingers curled tightly around the leather shoulder strap of her Gucci bag.

"Are they fighting again?" she asked, although she spoke with such conviction it could just as well have been a statement. Kiki hesitated, folding her hands in front of her.

"Not so…much". Ino side-stepped her and grasped the brass handle of the entrance door. None too gently she flung it open, allowing an array of curses and accusations to escape the confines of the house. Ino winced at the volume.

"I can hear that," she stated dryly. The old woman smiled nervously, though could not help but wince at a rather loud scream that echoed the estate. Someone who had never walked in on a Yamanaka fight would have been convinced that someone was committing murder. There was a crash as something broke – Ino could vividly imagine her mother grab the nearest vase and fling it at Inoichi's head in a fit of rage. Slowly she entered the hall, with its elegantly arched windows, polished marble floors and white paneled walls. Above her head an enormous crystal chandelier sparkled like the sun, reflected in the gilded mirrors hanging on the walls. Her heels clicked against the floor.

There was a second crash, and she paused, turning towards the housekeeper who was quietly shutting the door after them, self-consciously wiping her clean hands against the pink apron she was donning.

"I'll drop dinner tonight," she announced. Kiki looked taken aback, lips parting.

"But Miss…" her protest was cut off when Ino waved her hand dismissively.

"I know, I know," she said. "You've put a lot of work in making dinner, but I'm just not hungry".

Normally Kiki would not easily give into the young heiress when it came to skipping meals, but she was not blind to the way her cerulean eyes were glazing over, how she was desperately trying to hold onto her priced façade. So she caved, smiling gently.

"I'll keep some of it in the refrigerator if you get hungry," she eventually responded. Ino's lips quivered as she tried to smile.

"Arigato, Kiki-chan". She turned sharply and headed for the grand staircase of marble and wrought iron, stroking the cheek of her grandfather's bust lovingly. Kiki watched helplessly as the girl she considered to be her own daughter head up the stairs, silently despairing at how her legs were so spindly and her cheeks were hollowing. She bit her lip indecisively, torn between running after her to stop her from what she was doing behind the closed bathroom door, and continuing as if nothing was wrong.

It was breaking her heart, seeing the way the girl was deteriorating, but loyal as she was, and desperately trying to hold onto the trust her young ward held for her, she remained utterly silent.

"Is Ino back?" Turning, the plump woman stood face to face with Santa Yamanaka, who was leaning lightly against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms crossed over his chest. He was a handsome man, looking perfectly casual in his blue and white striped linen shirt and Levi jeans.

"Yes, Mr. Yamanaka". His gaze narrowed when more loud exclaims sounded from upstairs. It had been like that for most of the afternoon, robbing him off his concentration and leaving the staff at loss of what to do. Thankfully his niece had been gone for most of the day; although she could not have avoided hearing the meltdown they had yesterday after dinner.

"It's becoming a problem, isn't it?" he spoke to Kiki, although it was more of a statement than a question. Kiki reluctantly nodded at the younger Yamanaka, pursing her lips. She hesitated, at loss of whether or not she should let him in on her suspicions.

"I am afraid it is taking its toll on Miss Ino," she eventually spoke up. Santa sighed heavily, pushing a hand through his golden locks in frustration, though he failed to catch onto the underlying meaning of her words.

"Doesn't it always?"

* * *

><p>Downtown Konoha<p>

Sakura, unlike her friends, did not live in a family estate overlooking the pulsating city, even though they had a manor in San Hills. But she had not lived there since she was six. Serena had spent the money in her trust fund buying an old hotel overlooking the splendor of Midori Park, where the two of them had moved to escape the ghosts lingering in the walls of their former home. It had been odd, moving from the cozy house with the far-stretched rose garden and the swing by the peach tree, to this towering building in the middle of the city.

Once, in a time when downtown had been the metropolis for the wealthy and powerful, the hotel had been one of the most popular in the region, often frequented by American businessmen and European royalty. But the opulence of the 60s had long since been forgotten in this part of town, now overrun by old, crumbling brick buildings, broken streetlights and stray cats, and San Hotels had become a washed-out imitation of its former glory. It rose five stories, a faded white façade which had seen its better days, with iron-wrought balconies that were no longer used and tall-arched windows. Though faded, it remained a bright spot in an otherwise bleak neighborhood, like an aged queen in her high-seat, surrounded by her old and worn subjects.

And despite its appearance, both haggard and regal, it was their home.

And their vision.

Serena had always dreamed of buying this place, to start a dancing academy for aspiring talents. She had always been bothered by the pricy tuitions that were demanded for children to set foot inside the renowned dancing academies – prices that normal people could not afford to pay. Serena herself had attended Leaf Society Dance Institute in the heart of Westcorner, the new metropolis for the rich and famous, at the expense of her parents. Although money had never been an issue for the Harunos, Serena had been struck by the sheer lack of talent amongst the other students. More often than not it was the wealthy, demanding parents who enrolled unwilling or untalented children into these classes, in order to boast to their friends and colleagues how they could perform a _fouetté en tournant_.

And meanwhile, dozens of young talents who were cursed with a remote middle class status were denied entrance because the tuition was simply too high a price for their parents to pay. Even if one or two of them were to be accepted, quite simply because the board would not wish to be perceived as snobs by the public, most of them never did get the opportunity to achieve success as professional dancers. It was a lifelong dream to finally open Airisu Haruno's Ballet Academy for Aspiring Talents, where tuitions were low and other expenses paid from either her own pocket or by investors such as the Emperor's Royal Ballet.

But her vision had been put on a three year long hiatus; as she was busy at the Bolsoi and performing for royalty in London. Ultimately, she had left both her dreams and her sister behind that day when she got on a plane to Paris. It had been an abrupt decision, like lightning on a clear day, for Serena had not even told her she was given an offer before she already had accepted it. From her first performance at Palais Garnier in the lead role of Odette in their newest production of Swan Lake, her career had skyrocketed. Suddenly she was featured everywhere, at the Bolshoi, the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, the Royal Ballet, and been granted the prestigious Prix Benois de la Danse for her title role as Juliet. On the side she had choreographed the Lion King on Broadway, twirled on the arm of Prince Phillipos under the glare of a crystal chandelier and even performed for His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Akihito himself.

Sakura often told herself she should not be upset about the decision Serena made, for she knew very well what her sister had sacrificed everything, including joining Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris, in order to take care of her after their parents died. But the sense of abandonment had only grown over the passing years, and despite the frequent visits and their trips and holidays together, she would still ended up being alone in a big building.

Sakura halted outside the building, facing the French doors of wrought iron and decorative glass, and glanced at the camera perched above it. Out of habit she waved at it, her shopping bags dangling from her wrist, before fishing up a set of keys from her Prada bag. When moving downtown Serena had taken all precautions in order to keep her imouto safe, including surveillance cameras at the entrances. She placed the key in the freshly changed lock, turning it. A distinctive click echoed in her ears and the door gave way for her as she pressed her palm against the cool metal. It swung open, and she stepped inside the old foyer.

Though it had lost its gleam and glitter with time and disuse, it still maintained a sense of faded regal elegance, with high-vaulted and ornate ceilings and polished marble floors. The space was large and open, square pillars of smooth stone carrying the galleries of the second floor upon their backs. The walls were white wooden panels with intricate crown molding, and had taken a yellowish hue over the years.

Sakura was met with the familiar smells of old furniture and lemon. It was slightly colder inside, though the air conditioner no longer worked. With quick steps she dashed to the small control panel beside the entrance, punching in the familiar code to keep the place from shrieking loudly. It beeped merrily in greeting, the small blue screen flashing _password accepted_.

Her booties clicked against the stone floor, which had been cleaned last week by the firm Serena hired to keep the place in a livable condition. Her steps echoed on the faded walls as she headed for the stairs. The stairs, in her opinion, were one of the prettiest things about this place. They were made of polished marble in yellow and white contours, with elegantly wrought black railings and the letters SH surrounded by gilded leaves.

The hotel had been named San Hotel after luxurious San Hills outside the city, where all the old families lived in their humongous estates, and fit Sakura and Serena's initials perfectly. It was almost as though the place had been meant for them. She always smiled at that, liking the thought that fate had something to do with it. Not that the way they ended there was likeable, but it gave her a sense of belonging.

Despite what people say about big, old buildings, Sakura was not afraid of living alone. Serena had taken her precautions, installing a high-tech alarm system, such as passive infrared sensors, glass break detectors, armed doors and really big, difficult locks. She had given particular attention to the first floor, with its seven entrances, the basement and the small parking garage in the back.

Cameras were installed at the entrances, staircases and any other vulnerable spot of the building. All the fancy little devices were connected to the big ass computer in the penthouse, which enabled Sakura to keep an eye on any potential break-ins. She had the police on speed-dial, and since the Konoha Police Department resided just two blocks away there really wasn't much else that Sakura could think to worry about.

Though she could have taken the elevator, which was in top order after a long, tedious and not to mention expensive investment in restoring it to its former glory, Sakura preferred the stairs, both for the exercise and to simply let her mind wander.

She walked up the staircase, which coiled along the far wall of the foyer, her hand tracing the polished metal railing. The walls in the hall from the second floor had maintained its pristine white colors, partly due to a slow restoration. Serena had always been reluctant to fix too much, as it was likely that she would have to tear down walls to create open spaces suited for studios and mirror halls, but the galleries and staircases would be kept the way they were.

Due to the ridiculous size of the building, the two sisters only used the fifth floor. It had been completely rebuilt, tearing down six suites to create a spacious penthouse suited for four people. It had the most amazing view over Midori Park, and light spilled in through the large windows.

She halted at the top of the fifth staircase, entering the hallway separating her from the penthouse. The floor was a dramatic black and white diamond pattern, and the walls were painted a shade of crimson unlike the angelic white everywhere else. The entrance door was of thick, dark wood, enforced with two locks and a second alarm system. Once more she retrieved her keys from her bag and slid one, then two, into the separate locks and turned them. The door slid open with ease, and she stepped inside her home, punching familiar numbers into the white control panel.

The penthouse was a tasteful mix of the traditional architecture and modern elements that Serena had put together last summer when they decided to renovate again. The floors were of dark, worn wood, while the walls were white with their original crown moldings. The wall opposite of the windows however, had been adorned in a silvery chinoiserie wallpaper depicting slim sakura trees and birds. The living room and the kitchen were adjoined, only separated by a bar of dark wood and black granite, and the mosaics adorning the wall over the kitchen counters. It was the largest space in the apartment, swallowing nearly half of the area, soaked in sunlight from the tall French windows. The ceilings were high-vaulted and ornate, a crystal-beaded chandelier hanging above the creamy sitting group dominating the center of the living room.

It surrounded a low, ornate table; antique, dark cherry wood, purchased in Tokyo when her mother renovated their home in San Hills ten years ago. A vase filled with red and orange lilies, a gift from Ino which had already been there when she arrived back home, adorned the polished tabletop. The far wall of the living room, which opened into the L-shaped corridor coiling around the back of the penthouse, was covered in bookcases. Family heirlooms such as Sakura's porcelain dolls, a hand-carved box, silver-framed pictures and the vintage snow globes Serena used to collect served as bookends for medical journals, encyclopedias, classics and their precious collection of scrapbooks and photo albums.

A new picture had found its way to the shelves. It had been taken only weeks ago, after swimming with turtles at the Great Barrier Reef. Their hair, a stark contrast of black and pink, was dripping wet from the dive, their skin sunburned and faces happily grinning at the camera. It probably was childish of her to want to have Serena back as badly as she did, but three years was more than enough. She wanted them to be a family like they had been before. Fulltime.

She sighed and kicked off her boots in the corridor, before striding on bare feet into the kitchen area. There were dark hardwood cabinets lining the walls and black counters, and it was equipped with all sorts of appliances, from the steely grey refrigerator to the coffee machine in the corner. The heart of the kitchen was the kitchen island, surrounded by barstools. They did not have a dining table, so the courses were eaten there, but Sakura often found herself curling up on the couch with her food in her lap while Serena was away.

She headed for the fridge, which had been filled up by Konan the day she came back from Sydney. Serena's blue-haired best friend would often check up on her, and while she was away on holidays made sure there was enough food for Sakura to last a week or two upon her return. Despite a rather indifferent demeanor, Konan was extremely fond of the Haruno sisters, and often viewed Sakura as a younger sibling of her own. She retrieved a plastic box of chocolate covered strawberries from the little confectionary on the corner of Red Street, and a bottle of soda, content to spend the afternoon lounging on the couch.

"My, Konan truly knows how to buy you comfort food".

Sakura jumped with a high-pitched "_KYAAA_-", strawberries and soda flying in wild directions as panic took over. She swirled on her feet, grabbing hold of the nearest weapon she could find – a banana that really would not do much good to defend her – and came face to face with vivid green eyes and a dimpled smile. A dark eyebrow quirked at the banana she pointed towards her.

"Nice weapon," Serena Haruno told her, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling with bemusement. "Why, did you plan to force-feed me with it?"

Sakura's eyes had widened dramatically, mouth slack-jawed as she took in the sight of her sister, standing there as though she had never left. Standing in their home, in Konoha, in frickin' Japan! Her heart jumped at the realization, and with a shriek of happiness she threw herself around her neck, banana squished beneath her foot and completely forgotten. Serena hugged her tightly, burying her face in her strawberry locks and breathing in the powdery, soft smell that belonged solely to her imouto. Tears spilled over as Sakura sobbed into her neck, but she could not stop smiling.

She was finally home.

"I'm home, imouto," she told her, the words muffled in her hair. "I'm home now".

* * *

><p>San Hills<p>

The Hyuuga clan had been the first founding family to settle down in San Hills, over four hundred years ago. Unlike the other founding families, the Hyuugas had been born and bred in Konoha for centuries. They had also been the only notable clan to possess great wealth, nurturing themselves on the trade of timber and their distant ties to the emperor. Their domain had been Lake Mikadsuki, an ancient freshwater lake, residing high above the town they had once ruled. The Compound had originally been a keep, rising four stories above the ground, with intricate gables and windows. It was connected to several smaller buildings which created a protective circle around the tall structure, and had been where the clan leader had resided with his family. But the Hyuuga Compound as it was today had greatly changed. Over the centuries it had experienced great expansions to accommodate the growing numbers of the clan, sprawling across the property as a large, white maze of buildings and gardens and long forgotten courtyards. Although they all possessed the same white façade, the interior had slowly changed from traditional to Westernized architecture. The last renovation had happened two years prior to Hiashi Hyuuga and Hinote Tei's wedding, further modernizing the compound to accommodate its new, and very _American_, clan mistress.

For her a new wing had been built, to fill with the pitter-patter of children's feet and for her to feel at home in a stranger's house. She had only given Hiashi two children, neither which were boys. Hiashi had not expressed great disappointment of their genders, for his daughters were strong and healthy, and with the proper training would be just as good as any boy. But Hinata, a once boisterous child, had suffered immensely under the cruel discipline of her father, and traumatized by an unspoken occurrence when she was four; she had lost all confidence and hence was seen as unfit to become their future leader. Though it was a subject rarely touched, Hinata knew it would only be a matter of time before her father decided to change the line of succession in favor of her younger sister Hanabi.

"How was your day, Hinata-sama?"

Hinata tore her pensive gaze from the approaching compound, looking at her elder cousin, Kō. He was a peculiar man, with his light hair and broad features, so different from the rest of the members with their coffee-brown tresses and aristocratic faces. His odd features were inherited by his father, who had not been a part of the clan, but the eyes were that of his mother; Hiashi's younger, deceased sister, Hanako. As he was the son of Hisao Hyuuga, their most revered grandfather's only daughter, had saved him from being made part of the branch family. But since his early teenage years he had often been left in charge of Hinata's well-being, a task normally given to the lesser members, by Hinote herself. His responsibility of the girl had begun shortly after the birth of Hanabi when Hinata was four, undertaking tasks such as bringing her to school – and picking her up from the shopping mall. He was the closest thing she had to an elder brother; not even Neji-nii-san could quite compare to Kō's gentle and caring nature.

"It was good," Hinata answered, smiling gently. It has been a relief to see her friends again. "I missed them this summer," she continued, a slight melancholy in her voice, as she recalled her holiday in Italy.

Kō visibly tensed at the reminder, his fingers tightening their hold on the steering wheel discreetly. Though he would never openly go against his uncle, he did believe he was far too harsh on his eldest daughter. And it hadn't even been a year since Hinote…

"It is good that you have such good friends," he spoke, offering her a gentle smile as he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze. She smiled back, nodding.

"Hai. I am lucky". Yet, sometimes, she wished she was luckier.

Her attention returned to the landscape. Here, at the top of the hills, where the roads stretched far into the thick of the Kyuusho Forest before climbing into the Tenshi Mountains, the sun shone brightly against the surface of the lake and peaked through the leaves of the majestic pines and maple trees. It was most beautiful in the fall, when the leaves took shades of dark auburn and gold and orange.

Hinata had always loved the color orange.

They passed beneath the undulating curve of the hirakaramon gates, Kō's bright yellow Lamborghini Gallardo rolling onto the gravel driveway. The compound was fronted by the new entrance wing, with its French windows and marble stone steps. Kō stopped the car in front of it, turning his head to face his young cousin.

"Off you go," he waved her off playfully. "Before jiji sees the car and has a stroke". Involuntarily, Hinata's lips twitched at the image of her grandfather having a dramatic heart attack at the sight of the bright vehicle, though it was gone almost immediately. Despite everything, she loved her grandfather deeply, and death was no laughing matter. _'Nee-chan said that if you joke of death then death comes to you'_ Sakura had once told her during one of their sleepovers, when they made up ghost stories. _'That was how oba-san died'_.

Those words still sent chills down her spine. She smiled weakly to him and climbed out of the car, pausing as she turned around to shut the door.

"You will be there at dinner, won't you?" she asked him hopefully. Dinner would be tense, with the shōtsuki meinichi of Hizashi being held tomorrow at the graveyard. Her tou-san was particularly frightening during those days before and after his twin brother's death day. Neji-nii-san would be of little comfort, for he was rightfully even more upset than his uncle.

"Of course," he assured her, serious. She smiled gratefully and shut the door, allowing him to roll over the stretch of gravel before turning the corner into the ridiculously big garage. Once he was gone from her sight, she slowly approached the steps, dread churning in her stomach. The place was quiet, people preparing themselves for dinner. The entrance hall of white and black marble was abandoned, but she could hear movement from the corridor leading into the kitchens. It was one of those rare days when the entire clan was gathered for dinner in the formal dining room. Usually people would only dine with their closest families, but due to the anniversary, tradition dictated that everyone would be present.

She hurried across the hall and bounded towards the elegantly arched staircase of white wood, her flats barely making any sound against the burgundy carpet the stairs were covered by. To get to her room she needed to cross through the whole expanse of the west wing, which made it necessary to pass by her father's office. Her stomach clenched painfully at the risk of being called upon by her tou-san, but she knew it would be far worse if she arrived unkempt at dinner. Hiashi did not tolerate such, banning sloppy t-shirts and sweatpants, and more importantly, he did not forgive tardiness. Everyone, in particular his own daughters and his young ward, was expected to appear at the table at precisely six o'clock, no excuses acceptable aside from illness and absence from the compound.

Slowly she headed through the corridor which seemed to brutally cut through the wing, with beautifully paneled white walls and crown moldings, and dark floorboards covered in Persian rugs. There were no windows, but plentiful of lighting provided by the gilded brass sconces on the walls. Her feet sank into the soft fabric of the rugs, choking any sound that they might have produced. Soon the large double doors leading into Hiashi Hyuuga's office appeared, ominous and forbidding. She quickly darted past them, ready to skip down the corner, when she heard her father's sharp voice resound through the door.

"I do not care what Amaterasu Haruno thinks," her father declared icily. "And if she thinks she can force me into submission she fails to realize just who she is up against".

"And yet she is the one holding the cards, Hiashi". The unmistakable voice of her ojii-san spoke up, calm, reprimanding, and her curiosity was irrevocably peaked. Her revered ojii-san rarely, if ever, left the keep where he resided, unless there was a grave matter to discuss. She pressed herself against the wall, scooting closer to the doors to hear them better.

"The Harunos always hold the cards," the elderly man continued, spoken with resignation.

"I will not be frightened into agreeing to her terms, otou-sama," her father exclaimed, almost indignantly. It was not at all like the Hiashi she knew, cold and composed.

"You have no choice, my son," he sighed. "Unless you wish for her to go to the Raikage and reveal exactly what happened that winter twelve years ago. Make no mistake boy - they had no repercussions revealing Shimura's sexual preferences, they certainly will not hesitate to expose us".

"Kenji Haruno is dead," her otou-san reminded the elder Hyuuga, coldly.

Hinata took a step closer, unable to stop herself. This was the first time her father had uttered that name.

Kenji Haruno. Hero, idol, prince.

"Amaterasu is not Kenji Haruno, Hiashi," her ojii-san retorted, sharply. "She is far more dangerous".

"Miss Hinata," a cheery voice greeted her. The young heiress barely kept from screaming. Turning sharply, she came face to face with her father's personal assistant, Aya. She was a bubbly twenty-five year old, fresh out of university with top grades and high recommendations, mind-set on building herself a career within Hyuuga Corporations. At first sight she was easy to underestimate, with her pretty face and striking blonde locks, but beneath the sweet exterior she was armed with a sharp brain, witty humor and skin as tough as steel. She was immaculately dressed in navy blue pencil skirt, white blouse and jacket from Anna Sui, but managed to keep a youthful appearance with the ponytail that bounced humorously with every step she took.

"What are you doing here?" she inquired gently upon seeing her startled expression, still smiling. Hinata opened her mouth, but kept utterly silent as she realized that her tou-san's office had gone eerily quiet. Slowly she turned her head to see her father, polished, refined, immaculate, and standing in the open doorway to his office. His pale gaze was fixed on Hinata's petrified face, slimming suspiciously.

"Hiashi-sama," Aya greeted him respectfully, bowing her head and successfully ripping his gaze from his daughter. Hinata let a ragged breath escape her lungs as he directed his sharp eyes on Aya's smiling face.

"Aya," he greeted back, gruffly. There was a soft murmur from within the office, causing the tall, dark clan leader to turn his head back at his father. Then slowly, his gaze returned to the two girls.

"Aya, please escort Hinata to her room," he ordered the blonde, who nodded without hesitation. "She has to get ready for dinner". Their eyes met, Hiashi's gaze searching hers for any signs that she had been listening in on the conversation.

"Of course, Hiashi-sama," Aya chimed, gently tugging at Hinata's wrist. She looked up at the taller woman, allowing herself to be led through the hallway although she knew perfectly well where her room was. But it gave her the perfect excuse not to look back at her tou-san, whose eyes were boring into the back of her skull until they had rounded the first corner.

"How was your day, Miss Hinata?" Aya inquired, completely oblivious that she had both almost caused her to get caught, and saved her from exposure. The young Hyuuga plastered on a smile.

"It was very nice, Aya-san," she told her, half-heartedly, while her head swam with the words between her tou-san and ojii-san. What was Sakura's aunt trying to force her father into, and what on earth happened twelve years ago?

"Good, good".

They walked in companionable silence through the maze of white-painted corridors until they reached Hinata's room. It was situated on the second floor, overlooking the Japanese garden with the koi pond where she had most of her happy childhood memories from.

"Have a nice evening, Miss Hinata," Aya told her kindly. Hinata nodded, smiling back at her.

"You too, Aya-san," she spoke politely as she opened the door. The young woman winked and turned back towards the office.

Hinata quickly darted into the safe haven of her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it, eyes sweeping the room.

The walls were painted white, the floorboards a striking contrast of polished dark wood. From the ornate ceiling dangled a small crystal chandelier, its glittering reflection in the ornate mirror above her vanity table of rosewood. An array of colorful perfume bottles, silver brushes and scattered boxes of powder and makeup were spread upon the surface, and her favorite robe of blue silk with white nightingales embroidered on was carelessly flung over the back of the delicate chair with pale blue and gold upholstery. The bed dominated the room like a white cloud, made from rosewood with an intricately carved headboard and fresh, white bed linens with delicate lace, and fluffy goose feather pillows embroidered with pretty blue flowers. It was the home of a large, fluffy pink teddy bear Kō had won for her at the funfair when she was six, whom she snuggled in her sleep and sometimes imagined wore orange clothes and had bright yellow hair.

A pile of books were haphazardly stacked at the foot of the bed, and there were fluffy white rugs scattered across the floor to ward off the cold. The music box playing the sweet tenors of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star crowned her nightstand of rosewood, alongside the customary glass of water and the orange bottles of pills prescribed by her doctor. Her favorite part of the room was the window seat, covered in navy-striped cushions and pale blue pillows, where she spent hours reading and pressing flowers or simply enjoying the beauty of the view. She could see the lake from there, and Maison Blanchard across from it, although it was a hazy white building with glittering windows. When she was smaller she used to signal to Ino with light torches from there, using Morse codes she had read about in one of her books.

A door led into the adjoined bathroom, another into her walk-in-closet, and in the corner, perched on top of a small table was a small television. The air smelled of fresh flowers, a bouquet of white roses adorning her desk by the bookcases, fresh linens and the faint scent of lavender which the housekeeper, Sasha, always put between the sheets after she washed them. One of the windows was pushed open, the translucent white curtains swaying softly in the warm breeze.

Hinata smiled slightly, always elevated when she was in here. It was her little bubble, her hiding place. It was the only room in this house that still held the lingering traces of her kaa-san. Slowly she detached herself from the door, slowly walking over the floor to put her bag down on the beddings.

Her thoughts quickly turned back to the conversation she had not been supposed to hear, questions she was afraid of asking filling her head. People always said Harunos kept secrets, and Hinata knew from experience that all the old families had their own skeletons. But she could not help but wonder what had happened twelve years ago that could possibly give Sakura's aunt power over her otou-san.

She was ripped from her thoughts however when the chime of her phone cut through the air. She quickly retrieved the bright red cell phone, a message from Ino flashing on the screen.

_Turn on channel 4. U R gonna _luv_ this!_

Intrigued, she retrieved the remote control from the nightstand, and switched on the television.

* * *

><p>Himoto Residence<p>

Sasuke was having a tortuously, horrendously bad day.

At least, that was how Tenten described the days when Sayuri unsheathed her claws and dug them into anything that could breathe and twist in agony – which of course, had to be him.

Her campaign against him had started sometime during the voyage home to Konoha, when she suddenly came up with the _brilliant_ (note the sarcasm here) idea that she would design the family's attires for the wedding. The concept was utterly ridiculous, and of course he had expressed his opinion with a loud snort that irrevocably had brought the cobra's (such a _fitting_ name, wasn't it?) attention to him. And it had stayed there.

Permanently.

He had managed to mostly evade her after their return to Konoha. Though it had been his great misfortune that Itachi had been made his legal guardian three years ago, resulting in an awkward living arrangement in an apartment on the calmer side of Westcorner, Sayuri rarely came by. That was due to the renovation that were made to accomodate the distinctively male living quarters into something that was acceptable for the prim and proper wife-to-be. But in spite of it being done for her, she refused to step her dainty Manolo-clad feet into the apartment during the renovation.

Not that Sasuke complained - it made the apartment his sanctuary. He had also pointedly ignored all her calls and threatening messages – that is, until she brought out the big guns. She and that infernal mother of hers started harassing _Madara_ about his nephew's lack of engagement (and lack of manners, though Madara had never cared for finesse) in the wedding preparations (really, _him_, engage in _wedding_ _preparations_?). But it had proven to be most effective, for less than a day into their campaign Madara, who had grown tired of Mira Himoto's incessant phone calls and suffered from severe headaches as a result, had caved in and brusquely ordered Sasuke over to the ambassador's house.

Unable to deny his uncle anything, and rather terrified by the dark scowl he had given him when he showed up at his office earlier that day, he had went. '_We need to be a united front tomorrow Sasuke,'_ he had gruffly reminded him of the shōtsuki meinichi. '_Sayuri does not know how to conceal her emotions, so keep her _satisfied_. I will not be made a fool of because she is upset with you'_.

He had went, but not without expressing his extreme discontent to his aniki, who somehow had wormed his way out of the entire ordeal. He really just needed to show up immaculately dressed at the ceremony, say 'I do' _(he shuddered at the thought)_ and carry her over the threshold. And that, Sasuke thought darkly, was just _unfair_.

He was seated in a creamy white armchair in the Himoto family's high-vaulted living room, which had turned into a makeshift fitting room with yards of fabric tossed over chairs, and tabletops covered in sketches and buttons and horrid pink ribbons. He was scowling at the two cackling hens, who thankfully were pre-occupied cooing over Konohamaru Sarutobi, the unfortunate ring bearer and cousin twice removed of Sayuri. He looked ready to flee, thin body taut as a cord, and he bore an expression of pain.

Sasuke sympathized more than he would show; for he was close to stabbing his eardrums with a fork just to remember what silence was. And by Kami, if that tailor (that creepy, creepy _creep_ as Tenten oh-so delicately put it), stabbed him with his needles or touched his bum _one more time_ he would end up in a high-security prison for murdering that perverted hunchback with his own tools.

Someone sniggered in the back of the room, and curiously the brooding Uchiha peaked over his shoulder. Asuma Sarutobi, Mira Himoto's nephew and Sasuke's math teacher, stood perched by the fireplace, clearly enjoying the way his nephew was twisting in the tailor's hold. He was tall and broad, with short spiky hair and beard, and while he usually would have a cigarette between his lips he did respect (_or fear?)_ his aunt enough to keep his smoking strictly outside. He was quickly subdued by a sharp jab to his ribs by his girlfriend, and soon-to-be-wife by the looks of the big-ass diamond ring she was trying to hide from Sayuri. Her name was Kurenai Yuhi, and she was also a teacher of Sasuke's. She was dressed in a red Valentino dress, her luscious black curls cascading down her back as she glared threateningly at Asuma.

They were guests at Sayuri's ridiculous wedding-fitting soiree, along with Konohamaru, his grandfather, the retired Hokage, who looked close to falling asleep where he was seated beside his brother-in-law Ambassador Himoto. The only ones missing were Itachi (who apparently thought it beneath him to show up at his own fitting), and Tenten. Sasuke hated to admit it, but he kind of missed her.

At least then he wouldn't be suffering alone.

Normally Tenten would be the least likely person to escape the gruesome preparations. The only reason why she did escape was the fact that she was going shopping – a pastime she only did rarely, hence it was something Mira did not wish to discourage. Sayuri had been greatly displeased, and channeled all of her energy into being particularly vicious towards him. And as the hours trickled by, Sasuke began to suspect that Tenten was purposely stalling her return. Not that he could blame her, for by the look of things her sister was pretty adamant about dressing her up like a cake – a really ugly one. But by stalling time, she was stalling the _fitting_ – hence, stalling _him_ from going back to the apartment, where Neji was probably waiting for him to log on to Skype. And by the looks of the text messages, he was getting very impatient – further grating on Sasuke's nerves.

It was a relief when they heard the front door slam and the butler, an English chap Rui had brought back from England, appeared in the arched opening separating the living room from the entrance hall. He was tall and thin with the skin of a vampire and who wore a constant expression of being half-asleep.

"Miss Tenten has returned, Ambassador," he announced solemnly in his droning voice. Immediately the ambassador was on his feet, smiling broadly. He was a bear of a man, tall and broad with a protruding stomach from enjoying too many of his cook's blueberry pies. His hair, cut short and brown, had started to fade to silver, and he had warm, brown eyes. As always he was immaculately dressed in a navy blue Armani suit and white Hugo Boss shirt, with a pop of color provided by his pink tie, and his customary lacquered Italian leather shoes.

"Tenny!" he greeted the brunette as she reluctantly entered the living room, circling his strong arms tightly around her smaller form. His cheeks were flushed from the amount of brandy he had consumed to get through the evening, and he was uncharacteristically cozy with his daughter. Sasuke had quickly learned that Rui Himoto was not someone who easily got drunk, but in regards to this party (which he secretly detested as much as the rest of the men but would never willingly admit so), he and the former Hokage had resorted to alcohol to get through the evening.

Said former Hokage had just fallen asleep.

"Hi, dad," Tenten greeted him back, caught off-guard by his very cozy behavior as he continued to hug her. She awkwardly patted his back, and threw a look over his shoulder to assert the situation.

The high-vaulted, white-painted living room was a disaster area. The creamy couches with nautical striped pillows and the low, ornate mahogany coffee table was completely covered in fabrics and buttons, and, she shuddered, hot _pink_ satin ribbons. Asuma-kun and Kurenai-san were standing by the white, ornate fireplace, clearly having lost the battle against the fabrics, whereas uncle Hiruzen was fast asleep in the comfy white armchair. Poor Konohamaru-kun was standing barefoot on a white, tufted ottoman at the front of the room like a goddamn mannequin doll on display, as the creepy _creep_ of a tailor circled him like a lecherous Frankenstein armed with long, sharp needles and scissors. She shuddered once more, already imagining the excruciating torture she would be subjected to - _again_. In the armchairs closest to the television hanging on the wall was Sasuke, looking thoroughly disgruntled with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl in his handsome face.

"Where have you been, young lady?" Mira Himoto demanded, causing the athletic brunette to stiffen completely in her father's hold. The fifty-two year old woman marched towards them, hands on her hips in a reprimanding manner. She was tall and slim, with thick, brown curls framing an elegant, slightly weary face and piercing blue eyes. She looked every bit the politician's wife in her black pencil skirt and navy blue jacket embroidered with pearls.

The ambassador let go of his daughter upon her approach, wisely making his retreat.

"I've been with the girls". The words, often used, flew from her lips automatically. Mira was not convinced however, furrowing her brow in suspicion.

"To this hour?" she challenged, noting with dissatisfaction the considerable lack of bags on Tenten's arm.

Her daughter nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes, we went over to _Sakura's_ after shopping. She was a bit _down_ today". It sometimes surprised her how the lies just slipped from her mouth, but they saved her from being grounded for the rest of her teenage life. Besides, the latter part wasn't a lie.

"Oh". Sympathy filled Mira's voice. She was aware of the pinkette living alone, with her sister gone somewhere to live out her dream. A dream, she noted, that came at the expense of a sibling. '_Poor thing'_

Predictably, the subject was left at that. Anything associated with Serena Haruno was tabooed, Sayuri having an almost irrational reaction whenever the name was mentioned.

"Ah, Tenten, you're back just in time!" the sugary sweet and _delighted_ exclaim drew the two women's attention towards Sayuri. The tall, beautiful blonde approached them with a proud smile, an evil edge to it that only Tenten could see. A white paper bag of fabric dangled from her slender arm as she sashayed towards them in her red Elie Saab cocktail dress, perfect curls bouncing with each movement. Tenten eyed her suspiciously.

"I have found the _perfect_ color for your bridesmaid's dress," she declared, blue eyes sparkling with malicious glee.

"_Oh, Lord have mercy_," Tenten muttered under her breath as Sayuri presented a pile of fabric from the paper bag. Brown eyes widened in utter disbelief as she realized what color it was.

"_Pink_!"

The brunette's gaze darted from the bright pink chiffon to Sayuri's gleeful expression, feeling her face start to melt into something akin of a grimace. Her vicious sister noticed, and her smile widened, baring her pearly white teeth like a snake ready to dig into its prey. Their mother, of course, was blissfully ignorant to what was transpiring right under her nose, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"Wonderful. Simply wonderful".

"Wonderful my _ass_," Tenten whispered darkly. Sayuri grasped her elbow none too gently, tugging her along.

"Why don't you sit down," she requested sweetly, "while I get done with _Konohamaru_-_kun_". Said boy winced at the syrupy sweetness in which she spoke his name, and then once more when the tailor stabbed his thigh with one of his needles. Tenten forced herself to smile sweetly back.

"Of course, Sayuri-_chan_". She detached herself from her sister's grasp, glowering as she turned to sit down in the armchair right next to Sasuke, who was watching her with one of his insufferable smirks plastered on his face.

"Don't say a word," she warned him darkly as she threw herself into the chair, groaning.

"Wasn't planning to," he drawled, although his smirk remained firmly on his lips.

She was about to wipe it off his face when her pocket suddenly vibrated, and curiously she retrieved her black iPhone. The screen flashed _1 New Message_. She pressed her thumb on the envelope icon, and the message unfolded.

From: Ino

_Turn on channel 4. U R gonna _luv_ this!_

Arching her brows, she turned her head in search of the remote. It was perched on the polished table separating her from the Uchiha. He threw her an odd look when she leaned over and grabbed it, but she simply shrugged her shoulders and turned towards the wall where the flat screen television was hanging. Immediately it came to life, volumes blazing with the intolerable news lady on Channel 7.

"Can you shut off the television?" Sayuri called, irritation laced in her sweet tone as Tenten switched channels.

"Let the kids watch it if they want to, Sayuri," Rui told her as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, eyes glued to the screen. "They're bored out of their minds".

Tenten had a sneaky suspicion that the _kids_ weren't the only ones bored out of their minds.

Sayuri huffed indignantly, but made no further comment as she turned her attention back to Konohamaru.

Channel 4 appeared, the pretty blonde gossiper Kasumi flashing one of her blinding white smiles.

_"Good evening Konoha!"_ she greeted the viewers, waving a perfectly manicured hand at them. "This is Kasumi Ayane on Channel 4, and tonight we are packed with the latest gossip. First we are going to Paris with Izumo and Kotetsu, where things have taken an _unexpected_ turn this week".

A second image appeared on the screen in the right corner, showing the Eiffel tower in all its glory. In front of it were two men, one with brown hair combed down over one of his dark eyes and the other, a dark haired male with characteristic bandages running over the bridge of his nose.

"Now," Kasumi continued, "we have all been watching this woman in awe as she her career skyrocketed into the stars three years ago. But no one saw this turn of events coming," she spoke gravelly, as if she were to announce someone's death.

"Serena Haruno", the whole living room seemed to freeze, "our very own prima ballerina assoluta", a third image appeared, of Serena in a pristine white ballet costume performing a pirouette, "announced to the media only hours before her grand performance at Palais Garnier in the lead role as Odette, that she was going to **retire** from the spotlight after an outstanding three-year long career".

"_What_?" The two teenagers almost fell out of their chairs as they stared in awe at the news reporter. In the background they could hear Konohamaru wince once more as Sayuri this time proceeded to stab him with her scissors in a momentary lapse of concentration. She went rigid, the color rapidly draining from her face.

"Now, Izumo and Kotetsu", Kasumi turned her head as a new video appeared, "What more can you tell us of these _shocking_ news?"

"Well, Kasumi", Izumo started, "it seems that the rising star is stepping down at the height of her career. According to Miss Serena herself when she spoke to the press yesterday and I quote: _I've lived out a dream. The last three years have been a great adventure, but it is time for me to return to my real life_".

"We have been unable to get an interview with her", Kotetsu continued with an apologetic smile, "but her manager," the picture of a Botox-faced blonde in a white Chanel dress appeared, "states that she is as shocked as the rest of the world at her client's decision".

Sayuri turned slowly, her movements almost mechanical as she stared at the screen, face blank.

"Indeed, we are all _shocked_," Kasumi agreed, putting delicate stress on the word. Tenten almost wanted to kiss her.

"But we will undoubtedly see more of this dancing princess – just a little closer to home". The last words hung like an ominous threat over Sayuri's head, and Tenten swore she looked ready to toss her mother's jade figurines at the screen. The news reporter, oblivious to the death glare she was receiving, smiled brightly.

"Now, onto the next, our Hokage, Minato Namikaze, is expected to…"

The words faded away, for everyone's attention was on the bride-to-be. Mira approached her daughter reluctantly.

"Darling, are you alright?" she inquired softly, delicately placing a hand on her shoulder. Sayuri plastered on her fakest smile, making it look as though she was in excruciating pain.

"I'm fine, mother".

Tenten could barely keep from smiling gleefully, but she shared a look with the Uchiha who looked sorely tempted to do the same. His lips twitched and his eyes glinted.

There was hope after all.

* * *

><p>Haruno Residence<p>

They had filled up the large tub in Serena's bathroom, overflowing with pink bubbles and rose petals. Vanilla-scented candles lit up the otherwise dark room, casting a soft glow over their tanned skin. Serena's bath was much bigger than the one Sakura used, completely bare of all childish and girlish whims such as fluffy pink rugs and curtains. It was the room of a grown woman, oozing of feminine elegance with grey and silvery chinoiserie wallpapers and mirrored surfaces everywhere.

The tub was built in an alcove with mirrored walls, the thick rims decorated with objects such as large seashells where she kept her soaps, bits of coral and an apothecary jar filled with jasmine bath salt. Opposite of the tub were two marble sinks, where a tray of glass with golden rims held all possible necessities. Farther down the wall, nearest the French doors leading into Serena's dressing room and into the long-stretched corridor, was a large shower and a white chest-of-drawers where she kept her ultra-soft towels. Sakura always felt grown up when she used this bathroom, soaking up in the tub or using Serena's expensive Olio Lusso by Linda Rodin, quite simply because it was her nee-chan's, and childishly hoped to look exactly the same as her glamorous, beautiful older sister.

They were seated face to face, drinking cheap champagne Serena had fished out of the fridge from their mother's crystal flutes, hair pulled up in messy buns to keep it from being smeared by the amount of rose oils and foam they were soaking in. Soft music floated in the air from the small, old radio in the corner of the alcove, and the air was damp and smelling of rose and jasmine.

Sakura could not stop from grinning broadly, feeling as though she had reached euphoria and beyond.

"So you're staying for good?" she asked once more, adamant to soak in every word of her nee-chan's declaration. Excitement was bubbling over in her stomach, her mind filling with all sorts of plans. They were so going shopping, and making lasagna and maybe she would follow nee-chan on her ritualistic morning jog through Midori Park…

Serena shook her head at her antics, but nonetheless repeated the words.

"Yes. No more jobs in Paris or New York or Tokyo – at least not until you're out of the house". She flicked Sakura's nose playfully.

"I just can't believe it," she smiled, rubbing her nose. "It's…" she paused, trying to find the right word, "…so sudden". She cocked her head and peered at her sister, curiosity peaked at her own words. Why was it so sudden?

"Why didn't you tell me in Sydney?" she asked.

Serena's smile faltered, and she lowered her eyes.

"I had to take care of something before I could come back".

Sakura's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What sort of thing?"

Serena hesitated, biting her lower lip softly. It was a habit of hers, when she was about to give her bad news. Sakura already started to regret having asked.

"Something I haven't told you before," Serena eventually answered, meeting her gaze. "Something you need to know".

"What is it?"

"Things are going to change here".

"I know," the pinkette responded teasingly, hoping that change in family dynamics between them was the only change. "You're back".

Serena shook her head.

"No, it's not just that".

"_Ok_. Then what else is there?"

Serena scooted closer, abandoning her glass on the rim of the tub to grasp Sakura's free hand.

"Over the past two years I haven't just been performing," she confessed, causing Sakura's brow to crease further. "In fact", she continued, "quite a lot of time has been spent in a courtroom in Paris".

Sakura's gaze went impossibly wide at her confession.

"What, are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No!" she quickly reassured her, shaking her head vigorously. "No, it's not like that". She bit her lip once more, uncertain of how to approach the subject. But she had quickly come to realize that breaching the news to Sakura would be difficult either way. She would not be happy.

"I have been in Paris, fighting for custody of Keira and Luke".

For a full minute Sakura simply stared blankly, her brain unable to process the information. And then, slowly, she pulled her hand from Serena's grasp, pink mouth quivering.

"_What_?"

"I haven't told you before because I did not know the outcome and I was worried that Amaterasu might try and use you against me". She hurried through her explanation before Sakura thought to make a retreat to her bedroom, grasping her wrist gently.

"The papers were finalized last week," she continued, urgently. "They'll be moving here".

"Here? To _Konoha_?" Sakura barely managed to get the words out, an intense horror taking root in the pit of her stomach, slowly clawing its way through her system. She felt dizzy, images of the twins swimming in front of her eyes.

"Yes".

"And they will attend Konoha Academy?" Her eyes stung with tears, already knowing the answer.

"Yes".

The world seemed to freeze as Sakura's eyes spilled over. The ground seemed to disappear beneath her feet with that three-letter word, and suddenly all she wanted to do was to strangle her.

How the **hell** could she do this?

This would ruin _everything_.

It did not matter that they were her cousins, or that she was supposed to care for them. She did not want them to be _here_.

_In Konoha_.

This was _her_ home, _her_ school, _her_ sister. It had always been a source of comfort knowing that Konoha was hers, a sanctuary from them. And yet, here they would come sweeping in on their broomsticks and snatch it right out of her grasp, just like that.

It was almost funny, how things had changed so drastically. Ten years ago, she would have jumped at the prospect of living with her cousin. Though it was popular belief that she had always detested the twins, there had been a time when they had been inseparable. It had been the result of weekly play dates and being in the same pre-school. Sakura could still vividly recall the days when she impatiently waited for them to be dropped off at her house (often in the police car with the lights blaring, for her uncle Kenji had a thing for dramatic entrances). They would play in the garden, and Luke would always push them on the swing beneath the old peach tree, and when it was raining they would play hide and seek and look for treasures in the attic. But everything had changed that morning when their parents did not return from the Uchiha estate, and instead there was a weary, bloodied Serena and a cold Amaterasu standing on the stone steps in front of the entrance. Of course they had huddled close and cried together under the coverlets in kaa-san's bed when they learned why, and held hands in the funeral, but after they moved to Paris, it was as though they had been switched with two evil demons.

They were angry and vicious and Keira in particular went out of her way to make Sakura's life miserable during those holidays they went to Paris. They always tried to steal Serena's attention away, distracting her whenever Sakura had wanted to do something. The worst summer was when Sakura was thirteen and Keira purposely dropped her birthday cake on her head, ruining her navy-striped summer dress and forcing Serena to cut some of her hair because the sticky cream and chocolate just would not go away. That had also been the summer when Luke had suddenly broken his arm, causing him to lash out at everyone. The situation had gotten so bad that Serena had blatantly refused to spend another holiday with Sakura in Paris. She hadn't seen them since the day they took the plane back to Tokyo. Keira was smiling gleefully whereas Luke refused to even step out of the car, stonily looking out of the window of their limo.

It was nearly three years since she last had seen them, not to mention spoken to them. And now they were going to _live_ here, in the same house, go to the same school, and they would constantly _be there_.

"How can you do this to me?" she whispered miserably, wrenching herself from Serena's fingers. Serena looked as though she had been slapped, mouth open and eyes wide. Though she had known she would be treading on dangerous ground, she had not expected the reaction to be this bad.

"Sakura…" she reached for her again, but she moved away sharply, rising from the tub. The water swept over the rim and splashed onto the marble floor.

"No!" she protested sharply, climbing out of the tub in her soaked, red Yves Saint Laurent bikini. Serena hurriedly followed, wet feet almost slipping on the marble. The pinkette had grasped a large, fluffy towel, encasing her small body in it as she went for the door. It slammed shut in her face, Serena's palm smack against the wooden surface above her head, the other curling around Sakura's upper arm in order to keep her still. She struggled, sobbing, but Serena's grasp was unyielding and she soon found herself in her embrace, crying into her chest.

"Why are you doing this?" she repeated like a mantra, weakly pushing against Serena's taller frame. Her sister squeezed her closer, stroking her hair, helpless as to how to fix this.

"Please try and understand where I'm coming from," she whispered into her hair when she had calmed, before pushing her away far enough to meet her teary gaze. "Things are starting to get really bad for them". She held her shoulders tightly. "Luke is in a really bad spot and Keira is continuously digging herself deeper into problems. I had to do something".

"Like you have done the last ten years?" Sakura snapped at her, the anguish replaced with anger. Her eyes blazed with a familiar fire, and she almost snarled. "Amaterasu has taken care of them. _Why are you doing this_?"

"She is _not_ taking care of them," Serena spoke forcefully, shaking her shoulders. "She stopped being a parent to the twins a long time ago". For a moment Sakura was silent, trying to wrap her head around Serena's arguments, but simply could not see them from her standpoint.

"That still doesn't answer me why you are doing this _now_".

"Because I saw an opportunity and I took it". It was a harsh declaration.

Sakura's eyes slimmed.

"What kind of opportunity?"

"An opportunity to prove to a court that the twins could no longer live with her," she elaborated. "Believe me, I have wanted to take them away from her for years, but she has simply been too strong to take to court".

Sakura stepped out of her sister's grasp, staring at her in utter disbelief.

Years?

Just how much was she keeping from her?

Serena rubbed her forehead in frustration, feeling the beginnings of a headache build in the back of her skull.

"Look," she began, calmer, "I understand that you are angry, and that this is something you're not happy with, but please, _please_ understand – I am doing this for the best".

"Best for whom?" Sakura snarled. "Them? _You_? It sure as hell isn't the best for _me_".

"I get that you think that way," Serena approached her, reaching her hand forward but thinking better of it and let it fall to her side. "But we have to be there for them, for _each other_. I can't just be there for you".

It was on the tip of Sakura's tongue to tell her that she had not been there for her in a long time, but kept that thought to herself. She knew it was not fair.

"I don't like it," she told her instead, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't like it at all".

"I know. But please bear with me here". Her voice was taking a desperate tone, her limit reached. "They need help and Amaterasu is not capable of giving them that".

"And you can?" Sakura shot back.

Serena paused, staring. Then she pushed a hand through her hair and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to try," she told her. "I _have_ to try. For Kenji and Francesca".

The reminder of her aunt and uncle caused Sakura's rage to instantly calm, and she closed her eyes. They had always been amazing, Kenji and Francesca. The charming police officer and the saucy French chef. Kenji who always delighted in letting them drive with him in his car, Francesca who always had something delicious and sweet waiting for them on the kitchen table. They smiled in her mind, dark and bright and beautiful.

"I have to make things _right_," she continued, her voice fractured.

Sakura looked up at her curiously.

"What do you mean?"

Her sister paused once more, closing her eyes.

"It doesn't matter," she finally responded. "But please, just give it a chance. Give _them_ a chance. You might be surprised".

She hesitated. Remembered all of those horrible moments in Paris, the cruelty, but then she remembered two kids smiling brightly, playing in the garden, and two smiling parents, hoping only for the best. Amaterasu, cold and unapproachable, and two teary faces as they departed on the airport terminal.

And fuck it if she didn't feel guilty.

"Fine". She caved in, taking them both by surprise. "I'll give it a chance. But I still don't like it".

Serena stared, as if unable to believe that those words actually left her mouth. But then her face broke into a gentle smile, and she leaned forward, embracing her.

"I know. _Thank you_".

Sakura nodded in acknowledgement, but retreated from her hold, expression serious.

"But I want to know everything.

Serena nodded in consent, grasping a fluffy white robe and tossing it to her sister, who caught it effortlessly. She shrugged on another one, covering her dark green bikini. When Sakura had done the same, she extended her arm to her like a noble gentleman.

"Let's talk over hot chocolate, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"…assoluta, announced to the media only hours before her grand performance at Palais Garnier in the lead role as Odette, that she was going to retire from the spotlight after an outstanding three-year long career".<p>

The eager voice of the news reporter echoed through the room. He paid little attention to it, for he had heard the broadcast many times already, repeated like a mantra.

He leaned over the coffee table, covered in plastic, peering down at a line of long-stemmed roses, purchased from the Yamanaka flower shop on the corner. They looked delicate, colored bright red, but they did not yet serve their purpose.

His leather-clad fingers shook the box of spray paint in their grasp, a slight clinking resounding within the little cylinder of metal. And then he lowered it towards the bright petals, pressing down the button on top of it.

A steady spray of black hit them, tainting them until their original color was gone. To his dismay the paint hit the stem too, but little could be done with it. Once satisfied that every rose was black, he put the box down and raised a delicate steam between his fingertips. A drop of paint fell from the moist petals, hitting the carpeted floor by his feet.

'_Perfect'_

* * *

><p>AN: Now, in this chapter there was a lot of backstory, but it is rather essential that you get an impression of the different family dynamics that are going to be central to the story. Also the plot is slowly, but surely unraveling.

One of the major changes I made is Serena's career. For you who have read the story before, she had more of a show-biz dancing career, but I liked the thought of Serena as a ballerina better. Hence she has been taking jobs at different ballet companies and won prizes and such. The reunion between the sisters was also different from the original, to give a better flow to the story.

I also went deeper into the Hyuuga clan, and I have changed a lot of Hinata's original story line (her father sending her away, etc.), as I wasn't happy with it. Also, I thought to change some of the scenes, removing the restaurant scene with the boys and instead placed Sasuke (the poor boy), into Sayuri's fitting soiree, just to give a better impression of his opinion of his soon to be sister-in-law, and explore a little his odd relationship with Tenten.

Also, the little scene at the end is a foreboding to what will happen in the next chapter.

Next chapter will be up within a week or so, just need to make some finishing touches.

Underneath is a list of translations, explanations of locations and certain characters that I either made up or are not very known in the canon series.

Thank you to you reviewers, LilyVampire, newreader and Reignashii!

To LilyVampire - I am really happy that you liked the new scene between Neji and Tenten! Not much of them in this chapter, though. But I hope you liked it anyway!

To newreader - I am so happy that you liked the previous chapter! Indeed, Tenten is a little more desperate than Sakura (understandably), but she was quite happy by the end of this chapter. I am really glad that you liked my new introduction to Serena as well. I'm satisfied with it too. I am trying to include Hinata more, because now I'm more satisfied with the way her plot is going. I hope you liked her inclusion in this chapter as well. Indeed, the prologue does state that they know something others wants to keep hidden, and in this chapter it was rather clear that they've got something on the Hyuugas. Kohana is likely to be included, as she is a part of Sasuke's past and will be a driving force further into the story.

To Reignashii - I am happy that you liked the previous chapter! Since I started writing the original two years ago, I've improved my writing considerably and I think that is reflected in this version. And I hope you liked this chapter as well!

And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

Yours always,

Kasumi Ayane

* * *

><p><span>Characters: <span>

Kō Hyuuga – in the manga series he was Hinata's bodyguard, whereas in the anime series his backstory was elaborated, where he apparently was Hinata's caretaker for years and cared very much for her well-being and happiness. Notably, he is not of the branch family, as he does not bear the seal, which I found rather odd, considering the fact that Hizashi Hyuuga, being the youngest twin, was put in the branch family despite his close ties to the main branch. I decided to take further liberations with his background to explain this phenomenon.

Hanako Hyuuga – fictional sister of Hiashi and Hizashi Hyuuga, and mother of Kō

Hisao Hyuuga – is the former head of the Hyuuga clan and father of Hiashi and Hizashi Hyuuga. In the Naruto series he does not go by any name but Hyuuga Elder, hence I took the liberty of naming him. Hisao means "long-lived man," which I found to be rather fitting (this will make more sense in the next chapter).

* * *

><p><span>Locations: <span>

Honshū – largest island of Japan

The Chūgoku region - is the westernmost region of Honshū, the largest island of Japan. It consists of the prefectures of Hiroshima, Okayama, Shimane, Tottori and Yamaguchi. It has a population of about 7.8 million. _(Fair warning: Konoha is a fictional city and does not really exist here – I just needed a region to place it in so as to make the story more realistic). _

Palais Garnier - is an elegant 1,979-seat opera house, which was built from 1861 to 1875 for the Paris Opera.

* * *

><p><span>Japanese:<span>

Daimyo - powerful territorial lords in pre-modern Japan who ruled most of the country from their vast, hereditary land holdings.

Imouto – little sister

Dōmo arigatō – thank you

Sayōnara – goodbye

Nii-san – older brother – Hinata refers to Neji as Neji-nii-san in the series

Hirakaramon – is a type of gate in Japanese architecture, distinguished with two karahafu (type of gable with a style peculiar to Japan with the characteristic shape of the undulating curve at the top) on the left and right sides of the gate. This type of gate was originally used at palaces.

Nee-chan – older sister

Oba-san – grandmother

Shōtsuki meinichi – death anniversary

Tou-san – father

Ojii-san - grandfather

Aniki – big brother

French: 

Maman - mother

Fouetté en tournant – ballet move

The Benois de la Danse is one of the most prestigious ballet competitions in the world. Statuettes are given to the winners in the categories of lifelong achievement, ballerina, danseur, choreographer, composer and designer. The Benois de la Danse recognizes with monetary awards exceptional events occurring during the previous year on stages around the world. These include dancing roles of all kinds as well as choreographic accomplishments.

Prima ballerina assoluta - is a rank or title given to notable female ballet dancers. To be recognized as a prima ballerina assoluta is a very rare honour, reserved only for the most exceptional soloists, usually those who have achieved international acclaim.


	4. In the wake of the roses

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**In the wake of the roses**

_The die is cast_

_- Julius Caesar_

* * *

><p><em>12th of August<em>

Konoha

The Graveyard

A breeze passed the great stone monuments on the graveyard. They stretched from the white picket fences by the shrine to the edges of the forest like a small city of stone.

A city for the dead.

Incense burned at the foot of the monuments, filling the air with its heady scent. The invisible fingers of the wind caught the strawberry blonde locks of Sakura's hair as she placed the white lilies upon the monument of her family, the white flowers completely drowning in the ocean of bouquets people had already placed there. The whole city had come to pay tribute to the Haruno family on their tenth _shōtsuki meinichi,_ or death anniversary.

Konoha's graveyard was placed on the very edges of the forests west of the city, yet it had been flooded with demurely clad men and women since sunrise, ranging from the normal middleclass woman to the rare billionaire tycoon. Arms filled with bouquets, they placed flowers at each grave of those who had died that fateful night ten years ago. The old stone monuments rose like menacing black and grey towers above the seas of lilies and orchids and roses. There were so many of them that the air was snowing with petals.

It was a beautiful scene, one that the media had made sure not to miss. At least ten cameras were perched respectfully outside the fences of the graveyard, trying to zoom in on the relatives of the deceased in the crowds. By the Haruno monument, there were only two.

Sakura ignored the attention of the distant camera men, firmly keeping her back to the spectacle. Green eyes stared solemnly up at the Haruno family crest crowning the tall monument. The coiling dragon looked as dead as the stone it was carved from, the phrase Nos Animadverto Totus written beneath it as a heavy reminder, and was such a contrast to the gnarled sakura tree that hunched over the grave.

It was the only tree within the graveyard, planted by one of their ancestors whose name was barely visible at the top of the stone. It was a unique tree; it bloomed only once a year, as it should, but not during the yearly hanami celebration. Instead the pink flowers bloomed much later, at the height of summer when the sun burnt above their heads like a menace.

Like today.

The air was not only snowing with the stray petals of roses and lilies, but those delicate pink ones that could only belong to this tree. They snowed upon the ocean of flowers, creating a pink blanket that only needed the simple brush of the wind be thrown back into the air. Sakura thought it was a beautiful way to pay tribute to her parents.

Instinctively her eyes darted to their names, carved into the polished stone with elegant kanjis; Kenshi and Airisu Haruno. She leaned forward, brushing the names with the tips of her fingers, as she had done every time she had visited their graves since their funeral. Unbidden the tears came, bitter ones, and her hand went to her throat, where her kaa-san's engagement ring of emeralds and diamonds dangled from a delicate gold chain. She had been the last to die, after two months in a comatose she never woke from.

Once, she had childishly thought that she was Sleeping Beauty, who needed her prince to kiss her awake from her slumber. But the prince, her tou-san, was already in the family crypt, and it was inevitable that she would have to follow too. Only later did she learn that the bullet in her skull had slowly killed her brain, and hope was gone days before Amaterasu had shut off the lung-and-heart machine. That was when she decided to become a neurosurgeon, like Tsunade Senju – although better. She was determined never to lose any of her patients.

The tears welled over, leaving trails of salt on her cheeks. She sniffed, wiping her red-rimmed eyes with the back of her hand, not caring that it was unladylike.

Futilely she asked herself, _why_?

Why _her_ parents?

It was selfish, she knew, to wish that somebody else had been orphaned. But with no answers as to why she was robbed of her mother and father, and her uncle and aunt, leaving no real closure, she was left with the hollow ache where they had supposed to be. And it hurt. Not every day, not every week, but sometimes she was overcome by grief, the sense of loss. All the memories they would never share, all the friendly teasing and the laughter that she remembered but would never hear again. She had only washed-out memories to cling to, little incidents that faded more with each year like a rock in the sea, never to be replaced by fresh ones.

Her throat contracted with sobs she tried to choke, not wishing to break down completely with so many watching on. But Harunos had never been good at hiding their feelings, and eventually she sobbed, albeit quietly.

Once she had hated them – these people who had so cowardly murdered tou-san and kaa-san. It had been an overwhelming emotion in the months following their deaths, a steady building tempest of anger and hatred until it had become unbearable and she had screamed and cried from the top of her lungs how she wished they were all dead. How deeply she hated these monsters. Serena had watched her with tired green eyes, before kneeling down to her level, taking hold of her shoulders.

'_Spare yourself of that feeling,'_ she had told her, firmly. _'Hate won't get you anywhere'. _

Though she could never forgive them, she had taken Serena's words to heart. Instead of letting herself be consumed by hate, she changed it into something positive – like her aspiration to become a doctor. And she had come to realize that it hurt a little less with each year, coming here, despite the tears and the unanswered questions.

And it helped knowing that she wasn't alone in her grief, and that brought comfort.

She turned her head to look at her sister, who stood silently a few feet away. She was tall in her six-inch heels, her long, silky black locks flowing in the breeze. She was completely dressed in black, wearing dark jeans and a blazer; her arms crossed over her chest. Her face was pale, half of it concealed behind a pair of enormous Gucci sunglasses she had slapped on the moment she had seen the cameras by the parking lot.

It was to hide the tears, but Sakura could clearly see them trickle in little rivers down her marble cheeks.

'_As long as I don't end up on television'_ she had muttered darkly as she shut off the engine. She was tired of the media circus revolving the ten year anniversary of the massacre, having declined six interviews just last week and curtly informed Leaf Society that her family would not partake in the memorial service to be held in front of the Senju Palace that same morning. It was bad enough that she was forced to mourn in public – she was not about to subject herself to the gruesome torture of having to listen to the shallow speeches of ancient fossils who just weeks before the massacre had openly gone against them.

'_A bunch of fucking hypocrites' _she had exclaimed once five years ago, flinging a book at the television.

But to see her nee-chan cry was a rarity, and overwhelmed by a new wave of grief she took the few steps separating them and flung her arms around her neck. Serena stumbled upon impact, but returned the hug just as fervently, circling her arms around Sakura's thin back.

"I miss them," she declared, her voice croaky as a frog swallowing gravel. Serena kissed the top of her head fondly, combing the silky pink tresses with red-painted fingernails.

"I know," she whispered softly, burying her nose in her hair, drawing in the familiar, comforting scents that seemed to have lingered with the pinkette since childhood. Then she pushed her back, hands moving from her spine to her shoulders as she leaned down to meet her gaze.

"But we have each other. Right?"

She sniffled, wiping her wet nose with the back of her hand, but upon seeing Serena's gentle gaze and knowing that she wasn't going anywhere made her smile. She had even forgiven her for the baggage she was bringing with her.

"Go join your friends," Serena told her, wiping a stray tear from her moist cheek with her thumb, before releasing her completely. She brushed past her, allowing a hand to rest on her shoulder momentarily. "I need a moment for myself".

Sakura nodded, turning to follow her sister's movements with her eyes as she moved towards the monument.

"Ok," she agreed softly, turning her back to her to give her some desperately needed privacy. Her eyes began searching the crowd for the shiny head of Ino, but before she had time to point her out in the crowd she experienced a pricking sensation along her spine. It was a familiar feeling, a reaction she always got when she thought someone was watching her. Curiously she looked sideways, and instantly her eyes sought out Sasuke Uchiha. It was almost like an instinct, pinpointing him in a sea of people, but he was never looking in her direction.

Except he was.

Looking in her direction.

And he was staring.

Like, staring _intensely_.

At _her_.

Like, _acknowledging_ her existence.

Her heart stopped momentarily, only to be jolted back to life by a shot of electricity that went through her whole body, right down to the very tips of her fingers. She stopped breathing, eyes widening impossibly as he steadfastly kept his gaze locked with hers, dark, intense.

Across the _graveyard_.

Kami, did she just walk in on a bizarre fantasy come true?

'**Oh, Sasuke-kun'** a dreadfully familiar voice cooed in her head, figurative hands clasping together beneath her chin as she admired the brooding, sexy Uchiha.

'_Oh, fuck no!'_ she thought desperately. This was _so_ not the time for her other personality to rear her ugly head.

'**I'm not ugly, bitch'** her Inner told her threateningly, before returning her attention to Sasuke, watching him dreamily.

But the pinkette paid no heed to its words, suddenly caght in a sense of déjà vu. As if this had happened once before, long ago. However, her attempts at bringing the memory to the surface were hopeless, her mind fragemented and severely distracted under Sasuke's unwavering stare. She didn't have the chance to gathered her scattered thoughts, not to mention think to look away from their intense eye-lock, before someone did it for her.

"Forehead Girl!" the inappropriate call of her name was like getting a bucket of ice tossed in her face, and instantly she snapped to attention, seeing Ino move through the crowd gracefully, ponytail bouncing merrily with each step. But the blonde wasn't at all merry, her large blue eyes glazed with tears as she pulled her into a bone-crushing hug that left her momentarily befuddled.

And yet it was all it took to have the tears welling up again, Sasuke for the moment forgotten as she returned the hug and allowed her best friend to stroke her back comfortingly.

"How are you holding up?" Ino asked when she eventually let go of her, jerking her head in the direction of the media circus just on the other side of the picket fence. They had most likely caught their hug on tape, eagerly commenting it with stupid words like 'desperate', 'grieving' and 'console'. Honestly, after ten years, those words failed to describe what she was feeling.

"Fine". She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, wiping away a stray tear.

It wasn't like her parents died yesterday. She wasn't grieving their deaths anymore, but grieving the absence, the loss.

Ten years of it.

"I'm just glad Serena is here". She had been relieved to know she didn't have to deal with the media storm alone.

Ino peaked over her shoulder to get a look at the ever-evasive sister, the beginnings of a gleeful smile threatening to appear. She had been the first to know that she was returning, gaping at the television when the host of Socialite Lives Network announced Serena's sudden retirement from the spotlight, for then to learn from Google alert that she was lastly seen boarding an airplane in Tokyo. She had tried calling Sakura about the great news, but seemingly Serena had gotten to it before her. so instead she had happily informed Hinata and Tenten, the latter who replied with a gleeful message of how Sayuri looked as though she just received a death penalty.

"Your wish came true," Ino smiled at her, recalling the eager phone call she had gotten earlier that morning. Sakura had been ecstatic. "She's back for good, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is". Her retort wasn't half as ecstatic as Ino would have expected. She looked at her curiously.

"You don't look very happy".

"Ino, we're in the middle of a graveyard," an approaching Tenten chided. She donned a simple black dress under an equally black cardigan, with dark nylons and ballerina flats that gave her blisters. "She _shouldn't_ be happy".

It was on the tip of her tongue to argue back when Hinata appeared, solemn as a priest in her coal black dress, causing her pale skin to look pallid. There were no traces of tears, no grief in her large, pearly white eyes. Much like Uchihas, Hyuugas did not cry.

Bu the truth was really that the only one of her family she would ever truly grieve was her kaa-san. The uncle resting in the crypt beside her was but a vague memory, a washed-out reflection of her stern otou-san. A man who was of no matter, no consequence. It was a cruel assessment, but in a lifetime of rough handling and stony façades, truth was that she was starting to grow numb.

But when she embraced Sakura, her heart ached for the pinkette. She knew how it was to lose a parent, though she had been lucky enough to have her until she was nearly fifteen. Sakura hadn't had either parent since she was six. Sakura hugged her back, squeezing her in a manner to comfort as well as receive it.

"Are you alright, Sakura-chan?" Hinata spoke softly. It was rare to hear her speak without stammering, but when it came to the Hyuugas, stammering, like crying, had no place in the graveyard.

"Hai". She nodded her head, smiling slightly. Then her expression grew serious, and she moved towards them. Sensing that she was about to tell them something important, they leaned closer to her, all ears.

"I have to tell you something, later today".

"Is it serious?" Tenten inquired.

Sakura paused, not quite sure whether they would find the news important or not. But she brushed that thought away, knowing they would care for her sake. That's what friends were for.

"It is".

Then as a dry afterthought:

"_Lifechanging_".

Tenten quirked a slim eyebrow at her.

"Alright, how about a sleepover?" She suggested, slinging an arm over her shoulders. "I bet Serena could make us those blueberry pancakes". She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, grinning slightly.

"Yeah!" Ino butted in. "And then we can mull over these _serious_ news of yours".

Sakura threw a look over her shoulder at Serena, who was kneeling before the monument. She never objected to a sleepover.

"I guess she won't protest much". She might even be grateful for a little noise on a day like this.

"Yeah, I'd like that".

"I can't, Sakura-chan," Hinata told her regretfully, her eyes darting nervously towards her father. He was scowling at the monument, picture-perfect in his black Armani suit. "They expect me at the compound".

Her friends gave her sympathetic looks. Hiashi Hyuuga was a real bitch this time of year, and custom prevailed, bla, bla, _bla_.

Same nonsense as ever.

Not that _their_ opinions were welcomed.

"I can tell you tomorrow," Sakura assured her.

Suddenly, a loud exclaim cut through their discussion, followed by a shocked gasp, before the crowd broke out in loud, urgent whispers. The girls looked about in confusion, searching and failing to find the source to the whispers. Until surprisingly, Hinata's little sister Hanabi, a wisp of a girl of eleven, silently pointed towards the Uchiha monument, face ashen.

* * *

><p>All the Uchihas were in attendance.<p>

It was rare, Sasuke thought, to have them all in the same place without the intent to kill each other. The last time had been at Itachi's engagement party, and even then they had gone out of their way to ignore each other.

Not today, however. Today, they were a symbol of unity.

If they had been anywhere else, Sasuke would be amused at the show they made.

Instead he carried a mask of stoic calm as he stood before his family grave, solemnly staring at the Uchiha fan crowning the top decoratively. Itachi stood a few feet away, obsidian gaze fixed firmly on the name of their cousin, Shisui. On his arm was Sayuri, pale and teary and unfit to be amongst the Uchihas with her overly dramatic grief of a family she had only known in passing.

Even her younger sister would have been a better fit, he thought, glancing sideways to where Tenten Himoto stood beside her father; both silent and solemn. The Himotos had felt it was obligatory for them to pay respect to the family of their future son-in-law, though ambassador Rui could barely conceal his frown.

Suddenly, a large hand patted him on his shoulder. Breaking his gaze away from the in-laws, he turned his head to see Madara's towering form behind him. Sasuke could not hide his surprise. His uncle had never been one for public affection. People considered him to be an ominous figure, unapproachable and cold, but Sasuke could only see him as the man who had taken care of him since he was six. The rock in his world, the only to remain after his parents were killed.

He uncle was dressed in his police uniform, to pay tribute to his fallen comrade Kenji Haruno after paying respects to his clan. Madara's gaze was prideful as he took in the sight of his calm and composed nephew. He was a ghost of the little boy who had cried in front of the stone monument ten years ago.

'_Uchihas do not cry'_ he had told the boy back then. _'Tears are a show of weakness, Sasuke'_.

He had learnt his lesson that day.

He never cried again.

The young man turned his face back to the grave, pausing at the names of his parents carved at the very bottom. Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha.

He closed his eyes, imagining them, her kaa-san smiling, his tou-san's serious expression.

But the image was blurred, the once clear picture he had of them had been brushed away with time and forgetfulness. His hands clenched in silent frustration as he opened his eyes once more. Itachi moved forward, detaching himself completely from Sayuri as he knelt before the grave.

Sasuke's body tensed, watching with barely concealed detestation as Itachi lowered a single purple orchid to the grave, a tribute to their mother. Itachi had always loved their kaa-san more than tou-san. The petals brushed her name fondly before being placed upon the sea of white lilies.

Perhaps it was cruel, but Sasuke had also loved his mother more.

Something soft brushed his cheek. His hand shot up, fingers catching the velvety texture of a petal. He grit his teeth in irritation, more than a little frustrated by the amount of flowers snowing in the air. They already covered his hair and black suit, making him look like Lee on a good morning. He was about to crush the little thing between his fingers when he realized it was not like the rest of them.

It was pale pink, its shape not to be mistaken. For a moment he was taken aback by the small thing, thrown back into a long-forgotten memory.

Sakura petals? This time of year?

Curiously he looked around to find the source of it, catching sight of several petals flowing in the breeze. Then his eyes landed on the ancient Sakura tree, in full bloom above the stone monument of the Haruno family. He should have known.

Madara had always said that the tree was an abnormity. The petals fell from the old branches like pink snow, covering every surface only to be thrown back into the wind, akin to a blizzard. And then something moved in the center of its vortex, rising from a kneeling position in front of the large inscribed stone.

The breeze caught hold of long pink tresses, partly concealing a pale face that was turned away from the crowd. Petals covered her black dress and melted into her hair. With delicate fingers she pushed a stray lock behind her ear, though it was a futile attempt as it was thrown back into the wind once more.

He knew who she was, of course. Sakura Haruno could not exactly blend in with the crowd with that hair color. And more importantly, their lives had been irrevocably connected through the murders of their parents.

But he just…hadn't really noticed her before.

She turned towards a dark-haired woman, tears running down her cheeks as she threw herself into her arms. She was towering at least a head over the pinkette, balancing her feet on heels that not even Sayuri had dared go with today, and flowing raven tresses. Her face was hidden behind ridiculously big sunglasses, but in a split second he swore he could see green eyes behind them. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Rigid as a board, he stared as he came to realize exactly _who_ she was hugging.

There was a sharp whisper, somewhere to his left.

"Is that Serena Haruno?" a girl in her junior year exclaimed to her mother, who frowned at her indiscretion and told her to be quiet.

Sayuri, who had an unnerving ability to detect that name anywhere, snapped to attention, grief already forgotten as she frantically searched the crowd. When her sharp blue eyes landed upon the dark-haired woman still holding onto her sister, her complexion visibly paled and her slender fingers grasped Itachi's wrist, clenching it tightly.

Itachi in turn had torn his gaze away from the stone to see what the ruckus was about. His calm poise stiffened slightly as his gaze fell upon the familiar form of Serena, kneeling before the grave. Sasuke watched his reactions closely, silently pleased at the way his breath was unnoticeably caught in his throat, eyes widening a fraction before he forced the air from his lungs.

He was not exactly sure why he was pleased – either that there was a possibility that this torturous wedding would come to an abrupt halt or that Itachi almost seemed pained to see her. But one way or another, it still was to his advantage.

His eyes were drawn back to the two Harunos, eyes fixed on the back of Serena's head. Yes, her presence in the city worked to his advantage. No, _both_ sisters were to his advantage. He had ultimately decided not to go through with Neji's suggestion about enlisting the help of Serena Haruno's little sister, but seeing them both here, together, brought him to remember the opportunity they presented.

The opportunity to avenge his clan.

The murderers were out there somewhere, in the crowd, watching them. _Taunting_ them.

He was drawn from his dark reverie when Sakura detached herself from her sister, sniffled pathetically and then…smiled.

For once, he was taken aback by the sudden change of mood. Or maybe it was because he thought her smile was kind of…cute.

The thought, of course, was smothered the moment it appeared. Sakura Haruno was decidedly _not_ cute. Girls with giant foreheads and pink hair were odd. Odd and weird and, well…odd.

At least that was what he told himself as he continued to watch her speak with her sister, drawing her into another hug. And then, as if noticing his gaze, her head turned and she looked straight at him.

He did not know why, but momentarily he lost grasp of reality. Her eyes, apple green and wide, brought forth a memory, distant and vague. Pink hair, green eyes and elf dolls that smelled of sunshine and soap.

"_You can have him if you want," the girl told him, pressing the doll closer. _

"_It's alright," she told him in her childishly comforting voice, awkwardly stroking his back. "You can cry all you want"._

Something blossomed inside his stomach. An ache he could not quite explain.

Painful, uncomfortable – _he didn't like it_.

And yet…he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Her eyes were just so, so _green_.

She stared back, caught off-guard by his intent gaze. Her eyes were wide, shocked, swirling with unsuppressed emotions.

And then there was a call, light and girly, snapping her attention away, breaking the connection. Half-curious, half-annoyed, he turned towards the source, as the unmistakable bouncing ponytail of Ino Yamanaka appeared in the crowd. The bubbly blonde, appropriately attired in a black lace dress with its skirts ending below her kneecaps, underneath a modest black coat, swiftly moved through the crowd in her four-inch, black Oxford shoes. She soon reached her friend, pulling the baffled pinkette into a tight hug. Though she hesitated, she returned the hug, fervently pulling the blonde closer. And of course, the glimmer of tears returned, as they both started weeping.

_Women_.

Someone brushed past him, the identical buns on top of her head a dead giveaway. Tenten threw him a look as she walked past, lacking the usual maliciousness, replaced with an emotion he detested far more than her apparent dislike for him – _pity_.

Instinctively his fingers flexed and his jaws clenched.

He did not want to be pitied. He didn't need people to look at him and see the little boy who cried by his parents' grave – the poor little orphan, abandoned and alone.

_Tch_.

He was an Uchiha. Pity was the last thing he needed.

His gaze trailed back to the girls, who had been joined by the timid-looking cousin of Neji. Now they weren't crying, but speaking in hushed, conspiring voices. It was becoming rather difficult to keep track of their mood swings.

He would never understand the female sex.

Suddenly, without warning, his brother stepped towards the monument in his peripheral vision, sweeping down into a crouch. Curious, he turned his head towards him, as his long, pale fingers grasped something amongst the sea of lilies and roses, eyes narrowed. Slowly he lifted it, the object between his thumb and index finger, hideous, black and foreboding.

Sasuke's obsidian gaze widened in disbelief at what his aniki was holding, brow creasing, before Madara brushed past him, a scowl darkening his features as he snatched it from Itachi's grasp.

* * *

><p>Serena remained at the grave as Sakura joined her friends, staring firmly at the carved stone.<p>

She knew people were watching. It caught their attention when the absentee Haruno sister returned to the city, especially after the big announcement on Channel 4, which according to Sakura, had been rerun twenty times already. But thankfully, they kept their distance from the family grave, giving her the shred of privacy she needed to recover. Coming here had taken a worse toll on her than she had anticipated.

The unwanted tears had stopped, but her eyes were swollen and her cheeks tasted of salt. And her head hurt, like it always did when she cried. But she supposed that she deserved it. It had been three years since the last time she had paid her respects to her family.

As Sakura had done, she knelt before the monument, although she was not in possession of more flowers. Clasping her palms together, she bowed her head, half-heartedly muttering a prayer for them.

She had never been one for religion or spirits. But it did make her feel a little better.

She remained kneeling after she was done, pensively looking at the many kanjis inscribed on the smooth stone. Only the main line had been inscribed on the monument itself, those forgotten side-branches having their name adorned on separate wooden boards which were barely visible behind the towering stone.

Her aunt Amaterasu and uncle Jiro were the only ones there was room left for. Sakura and herself would have to settle for the sotoba.

'_Maybe you should make another grave, Old Man,'_ her uncle Kenji had joked to Waizu one morning when he had complained about there not being room for his beloved grandchildren on the stone monument. '_I vote to be at the very top'_. Her jiji had not been amused.

Weeks later they had placed his urn beside obaa-san's. Kenji had to settle for bottoms four weeks after that. Looking back, it was almost like a bizarre twist of fate.

'_Joke of death and death comes to you, child_,' obaa-san had told her once, on her deathbed twenty years ago.

Pensively her fingers brushed her jiji's name. Traces of red ink remained from when they had removed it at his funeral. Tradition prevailed that when one's spouse died, both names were carved on the stone. After obaa-san died from infection before Sakura was born, Waizu had both names carved, though his own was painted red until he too died.

Her fingers trailed down to pause by the names of her parents, where a gaudy sticker depicting an angel had been put by Sakura after the funeral. She had insisted upon it, teary eyed and nearly crushing the tiny scrap of plastic in her hands. They had glued it to the stone, and surprisingly, it had survived.

She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over once again. Blinking rapidly, she rose from her position, intending to join Sakura, when she was halted by the sight of something she had not noticed before.

Frowning, she hunched down to grasp a long-stemmed rose perched against the monument. There was a small note attached to it by a white ribbon, but that was not what had caught her attention.

The rose was black.

Serena might not be a botanist, but she knew there were no black roses. She raised it to her face, breathing in the unmistakable smell of spray paint. Dumbfounded as to why someone would do so, she turned her attention to the note. Written in elegant letters, it said three words that made a cold shiver run up her spine.

_Vengeance is mine._

Her reaction was partly concealed by her sunglasses, but she could not hide the way her body went rigid. Slowly she turned to the crowds, pulling off her glasses to try and catch sight of the culprit who might have done this. But no one was looking at her at that moment, busy whispering theories about her return.

Despite herself, her gaze sought out the Uchiha monument. Sasuke Uchiha, all grown and stoic, had his eyes elsewhere, whereas Sayuri was urgently whispering to her mother. She refused to look at Madara Uchiha, standing but a foot behind Sasuke, instead noticing Itachi hunch down to grasp a flower.

A long-stemmed rose with tainted black petals.

Some of those in attendance gasped at the sight of it. Itachi's face was expressionless as he read the small note attached to it. But when he looked up, meeting her gaze across the graveyard, his eyes were burning.

* * *

><p>Downtown Konoha<p>

Hiruhan, like much like the rest of downtown was in gentle decay, long since having lost its former position as the metropolis for the rich and famous. The quaint café with its polished Chippendale furniture and worn, tufted settees had once been a popular restaurant, but had been abandoned sometime during the early 70s, leaving it to dust away on the corner of Red Street; until some hippie visionaries bought it and turned it into something of a crossbreed between a Parisian café and a confectionary. Though it still had the appearance of being rundown and decaying, with the chipping façade and dusty windows, it was surprisingly popular, and even the highborn dared themselves downtown just to have a bite of their delicate pastries and hot chocolate.

The Haruno sisters were frequent guests, deeming it to be the best café in all of Konoha – and there was an advantage to it when it was in a walking distance from their home. But today they had parked the car right outside, after successfully throwing off the bloodthirsty paparazzi who had taken chase after the rose incident.

It had caused quite a ruckus, when Itachi had held up a tainted black rose, only for new ones to be discovered resting at each monument. Hyuuga, Senju and Sarutobi had all been given a single black rose, with the same three words on every note.

_Vengeance is mine. _

The news had spread like wildfire through the crowd, completely ruining the purpose of why they had come to the graveyard in the first place. But it was an irrevocable consequence, for the words had not just been a prank performed by a bunch of moronic teenagers – they were the words of someone who wished to provoke a reaction from the families of the victims - and had done so with great success. Serena had never seen the Hyuuga clan express as much outrage as they had done when Hiashi retrieved the rose, or how the immaculately dressed police officers scurried about to collect them, pale-faced and livid. And the cameras had caught it all on tape, broadcasting it on every news channel ever since.

In the corner, hanging on the wall, was a flat screen, the images of the event were repeated – again, and again, and _again_. Thankfully the girl behind the desk had enough grace to turn down the volume upon their arrival at the café, although she could do little to subdue the curious stares of the scattered few customers already occupying the space.

Sakura sat perched on the chair opposite of Serena, twirling the delicate stem of a white rose she had snatched from the ugly little vase on the table between her fingers, careful to avoid the thorns. She leaned her chin in the palm of her other hand, elbow perched on the edge of the polished surface, gaze distant as she regarded the flower.

"Ino says black roses don't grow naturally," she suddenly spoke. Serena, who was busy carving patterns in the foam on top of her steaming cup of cappuccino, looked up curiously at her words. "They manipulate them in laboratories," Sakura elaborated.

Slowly Serena laid down her teaspoon on her saucer, her expression blank as she studied her sister.

"Not those," she eventually spoke, strangely calm. "They were spray painted".

The synthetic stench still lingered in her nose, the natural, sweet essence of the petals evaporated from the poor plant. And those haunting words were carved into her brain, repeated like a broken record throughout the last hour, slowly driving her mad.

Sakura's pale eyebrow arched up in surprise.

"Who spray paints anything in this city?"

"You mean except Hidan?" Serena playfully interjected, desperately trying to lift the mood.

"Well, it's obviously not Hidan," Sakura spoke urgently, almost glaring at her for suggesting something like that. Granted, Hidan had always been crazy, but not _that_ crazy.

"Never thought it was". She shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

Sakura put the rose back in its proper place before grasping the small spoon lying on the pristine white tablecloth. In front of her was one of Hiruhan's specialties - hot chocolate served with a dash of cream and sprinkled with lavender. The pinkette religiously ordered it, summer as winter, for it was a taste of pure euphoria and always gave her a sense of comfort. She dipped the spoon into a bit of cream, carefully soaking it in the steaming liquid before bringing it to her lips. When it hit her taste buds, her pupils dilated before her eyes fluttered shut. Serena watched her in mild amusement.

'_Harunos and their sweets,'_ their family friend, Jonathan DeLaurentis always joked whenever they threw themselves over a delectable cake or chocolate. '_You should all have been pastry chefs instead'_.

Kenji would protest fervently, claiming that doing so would ruin the euphoric experience of consuming a fraîcheur or religieuse pastry.

She tore her gaze away from her sister to look about the room. The walls were of dark wooden panels with intricate gold details, the floors a flattering black and white marble. Along the walls were large and small tables and richly colored, albeit fraying settees. The ornate ceiling was trimmed with intricate flower patterns and antique light fixtures, and the long-stretched counter served as a display case for tiny, beautifully decorated cakes, crème puffs, macarons, éclairs, cookies and brioche, which were neatly lined up in immaculate rows.

Her eyes darted towards the television again, looking back towards Sakura before it flashed back to the screen once more upon the realization that the images had stopped repeating. Instead, it showed a close-up angle of their Yondaime Hokage - Minato Namikaze.

He was a handsome man in his late thirties, youthful, virile and charismatic with stunning blue eyes and a mane of unruly blonde spikes. Her heart clenched painfully as a wave of regret hit her. She hadn't spoken with him today. And she should have. She owed him more than he probably understood himself.

At the moment he bore a grave expression, standing upon a podium likely to have been set up in front of the old palace. She would normally not have cared for speeches, but there was a glimmer of defiance in his blue gaze that caught her attention. Curious, she turned towards the nearest waitress, tugging at her cute pink apron. The waitress, a pretty redhead, looked down at her curiously.

"Hey, could you turn up the volume?" she pointed towards the television.

The redhead seemed taken aback by the request, but after a moment's bafflement she nodded her head.

"Of course, Miss Haruno".

Sakura looked up from her cup at her unexpected request, arching a brow questioningly. Serena waved her off with a wave of her hand as the volume was turned up considerably, and the soft, yet strong voice of the Hokage flooded through the quiet café.

"…today it has been ten years since our city was struck by a tragedy". The man paused to meet the gazes of the audience, though never looking into the camera. "Ten years since we all lost someone we held dear. Whether a family member, a friend, a colleague, an idol; we have all suffered a loss, and we have grieved them ever since".

The soft-spoken conversations died down as everyone fixed their attention on the young man, and even the waitresses paused in their work, standing by the counter or between tables with trays and coffee mugs. From the corner of her eye Serena could see Sakura slowly place her spoon down, curiosity peaked by his words.

"Even now, we still carry the scars of that night. The uncertainty of why this crime was committed. And today, someone decided to remind us of it, by leaving three words at the graves - three words that can be understood so many different ways. _Vengeance is mine"_.

He paused once more, allowing those chilling words to hang in the air as a dark reminder. In the seconds he was quiet, so was the rest of the city.

"Whether it is a promise of retaliation, to avenge the deceased, or a vengeance fulfilled by their deaths, is unclear". Either way, Serena thought, the meaning of those words brought nothing good with them. And deep down, she knew it was a warning. Something was building. She didn't like it.

"But it does give us a firm reminder that those who committed this crime are still out there". His next words catapulted her back to reality, and she stared at his face in shock. Those words, those _forbidden_, _tabooed_ words, had just been spoken by their own Hokage.

She could imagine the expressions of the audience, all those important men and women, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at their leader.

"They escaped repentance, they escaped consequence, and for ten years we have been silent about it". He spoke forcefully, urgently, placing delicate pressure on each word, stressing their importance.

"Today I urge every citizen of Konoha to breach that silence. We can no longer tolerate the secrecy revolving the massacre".

He spoke in a foreign language, his words so surreal, so far beyond the understanding of Konoha's elite, that Serena, along with the rest of the city, thought she was hallucinating. Maybe even dreaming.

A very _real_ dream.

"We all carry the scars of that night, and we suffer in silence. And in silence, the murderers thrive. They escape punishment, retaliation". Minato's eyes burned, with defiance, determination, passion.

"But in unity, in friendship, we are stronger, and by speaking with each other, we might bring those responsible to justice. Break that silence. Break it today".

With those last urging words he ended his speech. He lingered for a moment on the podium, waiting for the words to sink in before he broke the spell. The camera followed him closely as he bowed his head respectfully, before he stepped down, striding back towards his seat on the front row, everyone watching him intently.

But Serena did not watch him, simply staring blindly at the screen, mind lost in a haze of painful memories and questions she feared answering.

A small hand waved in front of her, catching her attention. Following the limb her eyes locked with Sakura's concerned expression.

"Serena?" she inquired softly, hesitantly. She had remained unaffected by the Hokage's urgings.

But of course his words did not impact her the same way it did with Serena, she thought darkly. Sakura hadn't been there, amidst chaos and bullets and blood-curling screams. She had experienced the aftermath, the loss of her parents, although the truth had been carefully wrapped in thick layers of fairytale stories about monsters and sleeping mothers, and half-truths that really said nothing at all. Her own fault, she knew, but what did one tell a child at the tender age of six?

"_Serena_". Sakura's voice, sharper now, penetrated her thoughts like a dull knife cut fabric, slowly tearing her from her musings. On the third try, she snapped to attention.

"What?"

"What do you think of his speech?" Sakura repeated her words.

She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. What did she think?

A mistake. A dreadful mistake.

He was rising to the challenge. And by doing so, he would cause more trouble than it was worth.

_Break the silence. _

Inwardly she sneered.

_What for?_

The monsters won, and ten years of silence had left every trace cold. Breaking the silence would serve no meaningful purpose. She stared at Sakura beneath thick lashes, mouth tightening.

She couldn't tell her the _truth_. Six, sixteen, twenty-six – Sakura would not handle the truth no matter how mature she was.

She wouldn't _understand_ it.

"Politically, I think it was a bad choice," she deadpanned. Sakura's face scrunched up in obvious disappointment. She had hoped a better answer than that.

"He'll have a hard time for it".

She knew this was the sort of speech all of his advisors had warned him about. Digging up that night, urge them to come forward with the truth, would only harm his career. Make him unpopular amongst the most influential group of people in the city – the elitists. Those who held sway over thousands of voters, thousands of men and women who might not re-elect him three years from now. It was a foolish mistake.

Noble, but foolish.

"But personally, I think it's the best speech he's ever held".

She wouldn't lie. She had never heard a politician who spoke from his heart like him. Such an idealistic man. Such a _brave_ man.

She owed him two bullets.

And she owed him _her life_.

She said nothing further, and the silence that followed was something Sakura expected.

Speaking of the massacre, or anything associated with it, was a rarity.

But Sakura had never pressured her sister. She was afraid to do so.

There was something about that haunted look in her eyes, the way she distanced herself whenever it was brought up. Almost as though she became a washed-out imitation of herself, vulnerable, _breakable_ – and that frightened Sakura more than the uncertainty of what had happened ten years ago.

Yet it was driving a wedge between them, becoming larger with Sakura's growing awareness that her sister, even when she did tell her something, she really wasn't telling her anything. Almost like if you were to discuss a book you hadn't read, just skimmed the summary on the back of the cover and made half-hearted attempts at re-telling it. It created a divide between them, not large enough not to cross, but it was there, a crack, a steep line. Sakura often found herself frustrated with it, knowing her sister wasn't telling her half the story, if she ever had told her anything at all.

Jiji had always said her nee-chan was the born storyteller, spinning tales you found yourself believing though there wasn't a shred of truth to them.

_"Not quite lies; more like half-truths and carefully concealed dishonesty," Uncle Kenji said, full of admiration at the stories his eldest niece could whip together to get out of trouble, "all vividly put together". __Sakura sat on his knee, four or five years old, playing with his gold necklace __as he spoke to her exasperated kaa-chan. She always avidly listened to him, for he had jiji's compelling voice, letting his words soak into her soul just like jiji himself. _

_The discussion regarded her nee-chan, who had just entered the house donning yesterday's dress, and told them a story about spending the night at Konan's, since she wasn't fit to drive. Kaa-chan, too tired to argue, though knowing perfectly well that she had been with Itachi, had let her get away with it. _

_"If only I had her talent at that age," Kenji continued, shaking his head with that smile that left the little toddler on his knee wide-eyed and bedazzled. Sakura had always had a crush on her uncle, so dark and handsome, like the princes and heroes in nee-chan's fairytales. If Fran-chan (Francesca was a little too complicated for her untrained tongue) hadn't married him, she would have._

_"That girl will be the death of me," her kaa-chan sighed. _

A nauseating sense of vertigo overrode her senses, and for a split-second she swayed.

She placed both elbows on the table, steadying herself before she fell off the chair. Serena did not notice, that distant look in her eyes that telling Sakura she was miles and years away. In a way, she was grateful.

These little snippets had a tendency to come upon her when she least expected it, sending her flying head-first into a vivid recollection of a memory locked away. Sometimes she felt like she was a himitsu-bako, a puzzle box, which at the right nudge, would open a secret hiding place, and a memory. A word, a gesture, something she associated with an argument she shouldn't have heard, a phrase her jiji used, _something_ someone had done when she was little. Or a secret, like nee-chan's nightly adventures, or jiji's whispers in her ear.

_"You're my secret keeper, aren't you, Sakura?"_

She felt unwell. But then someone in a cheery pink apron appeared, breaking her from her fragmented mind.

"Your Tarte Caramel Salé," a petite waitress gracefully swept down to place a platter of delicate, blue-painted porcelain in front of Serena, breaking the pressing silence at the table. Upon it was Serena's favorite chocolate and caramel sin. It was a buttery, crumbly crust cupping a pool of gooey, deliciously salty caramel, topped by a swirling milk chocolate crème, artfully dusted with cocoa powder. Mouthwatering, sinfully delicious, and not at all the proper diet for a ballerina of barely 120 pounds. But then again Serena never seemed to gain weight like normal people did, for if her eating habits were any indication, she should be the size of an elephant and still growing.

"And your caramel éclair". Another platter swept down in front of Sakura, presenting one of her own little sins, and the nauseating feeling in her stomach evaporated, replaced by unquenched hunger. The tender pâte a choux was filled with caramel crème and sticky milk chocolate glaçage, a delicious combination that always wanted her to order a second one when she had wiped her plate clean. Ino would so totally frown if she saw her take a bite of this calorie-bomb, but hell, she wasn't there to criticize.

"_Really,_ Sakura," a dreadfully familiar voice chided. "Weren't you the one who was supposedly getting better and healthier eating habits?"

Apparently she spoke too soon.

Turning her head she found said little blonde devil, hands poised on her hips as she frowned down at the pastry in front of her. But Sakura knew Ino was simply envious, for she wanted to dig her teeth into the puff pastry and delicious caramel and chocolate just as much as she did. She shrugged her shoulders carelessly, before tauntingly lifting the pastry and taking a bite. Ino watched her as her pearly white teeth dug into it and pulled off a piece, eyes closing as the tastes hit her tongue.

She heard an indignant huff as Ino sat down on the chair between the sisters, arms undoubtedly crossed over her chest. Serena promptly kicked Sakura's shin under the table to stop her antics.

'_Behave' _she mouthed.

"Yes, Sakura," Tenten approached them, her eyes fixed on Serena's moving lips as she mimicked her mother's voice. "_Behave_".

"Always," Sakura retorted, putting down her éclair. Tenten was unconvinced as she sauntered past her to seat herself across from Ino, carelessly tossing her small, impractical Gucci purse onto the table as she did so. Serena's verdant gaze darted between the two, brows arching when she could not find bags filled with necessities.

"No change of clothes?" she inquired.

Ino gave her a shrewd smile.

"Well, you've got a big closet…"

She let the sentence end with that, and Serena shook her head mirthfully. She dipped her spoon into the milk chocolate crème and dusted cocoa powder on her treat, before playfully dabbing it onto Ino's nose.

"You're a clever one, aren't you?"

She grinned, wiping the dab of chocolate with her finger and sticking it into her mouth. The delicious taste of chocolate was a welcome change from the strict diet she had subjected herself to all summer, and she found that she craved more of it.

"Always," she agreed.

* * *

><p>Senju Palace<p>

The memorial service had been a gruesome affair.

Hundreds had gathered in front of the podium rising upon the grassy lawn in front of the old palace, seated on hard, uncomfortable chairs as fossil after fossil from the Leaf Society Board held their speeches. In Madara's opinion they could as well have been singing lullabies, for people struggled to remain awake during the ordeal. Even he found it difficult to keep his eyes open.

The only thing that had been remotely well-performed during the course of the very long hour had been, to his own dismay, the heartfelt speech of the Yondaime Hokage, Minato Namikaze. In less than minutes he expressed the city's grief, and also successfully managed to rattle the cage when he ignored his advisors by reminding people that the murderers had yet to be caught.

Had it been anyone else, Madara would have suspected it to be an attempt at gaining votes at the next election, but Minato Namikaze was if nothing else, a noble and idealistic man. The speech had been a reckless reaction to the flowers at the graveyard, which would have its consequences, but it had also brought to the surface something that they had all chosen to bury seven years ago after the massacre had officially become a cold case.

He could already imagine the debates that would appear in the wake of this.

And he was, to his irritation, powerless to stop it. The media had a mind of their own that always worked to get the public's attention, and had been presented with the perfect opportunity to dig up the perhaps greatest incident since the assassination of Hashirama Senju ninety years ago.

Of course he had been quick to smother the journalists' attempts at climbing over the fences to get a look at the flowers, and retrieve the evidence from the enraged families. He had sent half of the force back to headquarters in order to analyze them and hopefully retrieve DNA or fingerprints that could pinpoint them in the direction of the culprit. But he suspected that it was unlikely for them to achieve such results. The deed was, if nothing else, perfectly executed. The culprit had successfully slipped past the dozen guards posted there to prevent indiscretion, and hence, was likely to have been just as successful at keeping his identity hidden.

It was past two in the afternoon, and the attendants were enjoying refreshments in the white tent outside the palace. The Senju matriarch, Tsunade, had blatantly refused to open her doors for Leaf Society to play hosts to a memorial service. The voluptuous, petulant neurosurgeon preferred grieving her husband's death in her penthouse apartment in Tokyo. Hence, they were forced to endure the sweltering heat outside, sweating profusely in their dark clothes yet not daring to leave too early after the memorial, for the fear of being caught on camera. The news reporters, were as expected eagerly perched at the edge of the lawn, cameras fervently trying to get a glimpse of the remaining family members, maybe even survivors. The attendants pointedly ignored them, pretending to be guests at a garden party rather than this media circus; however, no one could ignore the tension in the air.

Madara stood calmly poised in the sea of chattering people, immaculately dressed in his dark blue uniform with polished silver buttons and all the regalia bestowed with his rank. He cut a striking profile; taller than most men, his body broad and hard as granite, and his eyes, sharply cut rubies, were no softer. He was handsome as ever, possessing that dark, sinister beauty that had every female with a breath in her body admiring him under fluttering eyelashes, maybe even sigh longingly as their gazes trailed that powerfully wired build. He held a glass of water, almost too dainty-looking with his appearance – crystal tumblers of scotch or a silver goblet of dark red wine fit him better – to quench his thirst. The heat apparently did not bother him like it did with the mortals he was surrounded by, for there was no sheen of perspiration on his brow, no traces of discomfort in his profile.

His eyes lazily swept the crowd, pinpointing his young nephew under the shade of a regal oak in the company of Nara's little boy, whereas the other nephew was speaking in hushed tones with the Hokage. Conspiratorial tones, if he was not mistaken. But his interest was short-lived, as his thoughts went to another matter.

The glaring absence of the Haruno sisters had not gone him unnoticed.

He had seen them both at the graveyard, paying tribute to the dead, though Serena Haruno's presence had not been anticipated. He had learned of her announcement due to Sayuri's frantic call sometime after midnight, but such a swift return had not been something he would have expected. At least, he thought she would have avoided returning until after the memorial.

But perhaps he had underestimated her need to be with her sister more than her desperate need to avoid him. It would have worked to his advantage, for in such an open space she was easily accessible. In the eyes of so many, she would refuse to cause a scene. Those infernal roses, however, had distracted him long enough for her to slip away without his notice or consent.

Now he would have to wait for another opportunity to make an approach.

He tapped his fingers against his arm in irritation; the glass of water disposed of on the passing tray of one of the waiters, a young lad who looked close to having a stroke.

"Madara-sama". He was torn from his thoughts by an approaching detective, Iwashi Tatami. He was but twenty-three years old, but he was one of the most brilliant recruits they had had in the past decade, and had quickly climbed the rank of detective. Tall, dark haired with dark eyes, his most notable trait was his goatee. He donned the traditional uniform, hands deep in his pockets, although his expression was grim.

Red eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded once he reached him, his tenor soft to avoid the curios stares of the other attendants. "You are supposed to be in the forensics lab".

Iwashi nodded in acknowledgement to his claim. _In fact_, he had been with the forensics for twenty minutes. He leaned closer to him.

"There is a situation at the department".

Madara said nothing as he gestured with his hand for him to follow. They retreated from the midst to stand in an abandoned part of the garden, in the shadow of a towering maple. The Superintendent General was the image of calm as he turned towards the young detective, though the slight tightening of his jaw suggested he was far from pleased.

"What has happened?" he demanded, arms crossed over his powerful chest as he watched the man in front of him. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, clearly contemplating on how to breach the news, but finding that his superior would not take it well either way, he squared his shoulders resolutely and spoke firmly, evenly:

"Someone has hacked into our database and retrieved sensitive files".

Iwashi's keen eyes watched with dread as the Superintendent General tensed almost unnoticeably, although his expression gave nothing away.

"What _files_?" his voice was even, calm.

_Too calm. _

Iwashi barely kept from flinching, quite grateful that he was in a public place. Yet, it wasn't the ideal place to discuss _this_.

"Maybe we should take this _somewhere_ _else_". He stressed the words, motioning towards the police escort parked at the edge of the lawn.

Madara did not respond well to that at all.

A frown darkened his brow, his eyes narrowing threateningly.

"_What_ files?" he snapped.

This time Iwashi did flinch, and the words simply left his mouth without his consent.

"Everything on the massacre…" he paused when rubies slimmed maliciously, "…including the files on your personal database".

It went eerily silent as the words sank in. Madara was still as a statue, regarding him with the same expression, no signs whatsoever that he had registered a word of what he had said.

And no reaction, Iwashi thought, was the most terrifying response he could think of.

"Who hacked it?" his tone was calm, even, but there was a laced in his words that simply _dared_ him to tell they did not know who the culprit was.

"We tracked it back to an e-mail address," Iwashi was quick to inform him. He had taken control over the chaos once the security breach had been discovered, and their best unit had followed a trail.

"The files were sent over directly to a Maxmillian Dobbs," he continued, his heart rate a little more even. He quickly produced a folded paper and handed it to his superior.

"Some sort of private investigator, got himself fired from a firm last year and has gone rouge ever since. Quite a dubious fellow, but he has been wired considerable amount of money over the past months. Likely from whomever he retrieved the information for".

Madara said nothing as he unfolded the paper, revealing a poorly printed picture of a man in his fifties, double-chinned and sleazy. Madara studied the face, already convinced that this chubby little man would not have the capability to hack into the database on his own. A third, maybe even fourth, party, must have been involved in that particular operation.

And that meant that _his_ files were exposed to three or four pairs of eyes – something he could not afford. They needed to be eliminated.

"He rents a room at Plaza Hotel in New York," Iwashi spoke once more, handing him a small piece of paper, torn from a notebook, with the correct address and room number scribbled on in all haste. "We haven't found the one who hacked the database, however. Probably some smartass little hacker somewhere in the States".

Madara carefully folded both papers and put them into the pocket of his jacket, though he was clearly not impressed by their work. The words _'not good enough'_ were never uttered, but they hung in the air like a black cloud, impossible to ignore.

"But we _will_ find him, or her," Iwashi assured him firmly, though the Superintendent General did not listen, momentarily distracted. His inner pocket had suddenly vibrated. Eyes still fixed on the incompetent fool he retrieved his cell phone, gaze sweeping over the bright blue screen.

_1 NEW MESSAGE. _

Sender unknown.

His red eyes narrowed. No one unknown would have his number. His finger tapped the touch screen, the message instantly unfolding. As his gaze swept over the large, bold letters, his poise stiffened, his back tensing so much that the muscles visibly knotted beneath his uniform.

And Caesar said: _The die is cast_.

Are you prepared to go to war with me?

For I am.

His blazing ruby eyes slimmed maliciously.

Such…_audacity_.

The Uchiha leader scowled murderously before composing himself, his sharp mind already putting the jigsaw puzzle pieces together. Someone was picking a very bad time to _dare_ attempt to challenge him.

He was not in a forgiving mood.

But he would have to deal with it after he had settled a score with this Mr. Dobbs.

"Find him, Tatami," he told the young detective, calmly placing the phone back in his pocket. "I don't care what means you use – but _find him_".

With those final words, he left the detective and marched towards his car. Zetsu, ever the faithful bodyguard, leaned against the hood of his black Hummer, arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting his return. He straightened when his boss advanced towards him, a tell-tale grim expression on his dark face that did not bode well for anyone.

"Boss," he greeted him respectfully, though he was wary of his state. He was too tense for his liking – his mood was positively worse than when they had left the graveyard. Clearly, something has set him off.

"Call up the jet," Madara commanded when he passed, accepting the set of keys in Zetsu's outstretched hand. The bodyguard arched his brows in surprise, but did not ask about his sudden, unexpected request. He had long since learned that Madara never needed a reason to do anything.

"When will you depart?" he inquired instead as Madara opened the door to the driver's seat, removing himself completely from the vehicle. He paused; eyes slim as he met his inquiring gaze.

"An hour ago," he snapped brusquely. Zetsu's eyebrows disappeared up in his hairline.

The door was shut with a sharp noise, before the engine purred to life. Zetsu was quick to head into the black SUV parked behind it, starting the engine as his boss swung out on the street. Mindful of the sudden appearance of nosy journalists and flashy cameras, he swung the sleek vehicle out on the main street, tailing some hundred feet behind the Hummer.

With trained hand he punched in the number to Madara's pilot, ordering him to fuel up the jet and roll it out of the hangar. The pilot, much like himself, did not ask questions.

He would find out soon enough where they were headed.

As he dropped the phone into his pocket, he tapped his black and white fingers against the steering wheel pensively. Though he had been taught not to ask questions, he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about this sudden trip. It wasn't like his boss to act on impulse – in fact, he was never impulsive. Everything he did had its reason, was a part of a greater scheme. And he suspected that whatever this excursion was about, it had to do with the message at the graveyard.

* * *

><p>Sasuke watched his uncle's car disappear down the sloping hill with mild interest. He was standing under the shadow of an oak, seeking refuge from the scorching heat which had become unbearable sometime mid-through the memorial service. But even if the sky was black as night and the winds were howling, it could still not take his mind off just how uncomfortable the service had been.<p>

In the wake of the roses the service had been a tense and awkward affair. Though everyone quietly endured the speeches, pretending that nothing was amiss, the façade had slowly cracked by the time they were served refreshments. His uncle's mood could only be described as black, carefully concealed behind a mask of indifference, although he had not bothered hiding his growing irritation during one of his discussions with Danzō Shimura and later with Shikamaru's father. Itachi had been eerily calm, the sort that never boded well, with a growing tension in his shoulders as he maneuvered the crowd, Sayuri a constant nuisance on his arm. The blonde cobra had been obsessive in the way she followed Itachi around, probably convinced that the moment she let him out of her sight he would be chasing after Serena Haruno. The evasive ballerina had notably been absent since the roses were discovered, along with her sister.

His obsidian gaze narrowed slightly in thought, vividly recalling their little…_moment_. He realized he must have come off looking like some stalkerish creep the way he had been staring at her. What annoyed him was how he had so easily let slip his control.

Over a mere look.

It wasn't like him. He was cold, controlled and girls _(almost)_ never made him lose his cool.

But then again everything had been strange ever since the roses.

There was all these peculiar little incidents; Hiashi Hyuuga despite his airs of detachment had at one point during his discussion with Minato Namikaze looked prepared to strangle him, Danzō had been on the warpath against Jiraiya. But the most mind-boggling moment was when Orochimaru Sannin, the detective who had led the investigation of the murders ten years ago, had made his entrance. The golden-eyed, retired detective had been disturbingly pleasant in his interaction with Madara, and later with Itachi – both who had behaved rather oddly. Brusque, he would say, in turning down his attempts at making conversation.

He himself did not quite know how to react to the incident. Rage, fascination?

No one knew the meaning of the words. If it truly was a way for the murderers to boast their victory, he would be enraged, and more determined to avenge his family.

But what if the message was written by someone who was seeking vengeance like himself? The idea, the possibility, was fascinating. Perhaps this person already knew who the killers were, and sought to give them a warning with the roses before revealing the truth. Or perhaps unleash a scheme to punish them in silence. Vendettas fulfilled not by having them arrested, but by destroying their lives. It seemed as plausible as it was unlikely, but no matter what theory was correct, Sasuke wanted to expose those bastards himself. It was his clan who had taken the brunt force of the shooting.

They most of all, deserved retribution.

He took a sip of the orange juice he had been served at the refreshments table. He preferred tomato juice, but he supposed it would simply have to do to ward off the heat. He was already sweating through his shirt and would need three cold showers to return to a normal body temperature.

Shikamaru was not faring any better, perspiration slicking his forehead and making his dark gaze squint irritably.

"Mendokusē," he muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He had long since tossed propriety to the wind, shrugging off his dark jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt in an effort to ease the sweltering heat sticking to his skin like glue. Sasuke was sorely tempted to do the same, but was a little too prideful to admit that the heat was causing him discomfort.

Shikamaru gulped down the glass of cold lemon water he held in his hand – the fourth in the last hour. But it seemed no matter how much he drank, the heat and the sandpaper feeling in his throat would simply _not_ disappear.

"Can't we leave already?"

Sasuke shrugged his shoulder, grimacing slightly at the slickness o his shirt, silently hoping he would not sweat through the jacket as well.

"No one wants to go first". People almost seemed terrified of the prospect to be pointed out as being unsympathetic by leaving too early. The media was already gloating in the roses and the three words attached to them, spinning up old and new theories in regards to the massacre ten years ago. It was the nightmare all over again, as Shikamaru's father had muttered to his wife sometime during Minato Namikaze's speech.

"Your uncle left," Shikamaru pointed out.

"Probably to deal with the graveyard incident," was Sasuke's smart retort as he took another swallow of the cheery yellow liquid. "What do you make of it?" he inquired to the young Nara.

Shikamaru's brow furrowed and he wiped it once more.

"A bit risky to be a taunt," was his eventual response. "Likely to be some sort of rouse, provocation maybe? But who knows".

In truth, Shikamaru had several ideas as to what the purpose of the message was. Taunt, warning, provocation, reminder. Many possibilities.

His eyes narrowed.

Too many.

Sasuke said nothing, swirling the remnants of the cheery liquid in his glass.

Then:

"I think we need to pick up speed".

Shikamaru gave him an inquisitive look.

"You have the notes, right?"

The Nara gave a wary nod.

"Yeah. At home".

Sasuke downed the last of the juice, taking a step close to his friends so that none but him could hear his next words.

"Meet at my place at seven. We're starting tonight".

* * *

><p>Haruno Complex<p>

They had camped up in Sakura's bedroom sometime after midnight, cuddling up on the white beddings with scattered red hearts, armed with popcorn, soda and Sakura's bright pink laptop. Despite it not yet being the wee hours of the morning, they were starting to tire, as the day had been unexpectedly eventful, not to mention all of their activities within the Haruno complex had left them stuffed and drowsy with sleep.

The first thing they had done was to raid Serena's closets, to distract Sakura from death and roses with high-end fashion. Though Serena rarely got to wear half of her purchases when her life was spent in feathery costumes and sweatpants, she had a fondness for fashion, something that had never gone unnoticed by the young Yamanaka heiress. Ino had always watched her admiringly, and never passed an opportunity to go through her clothes or borrow certain items she found particularly charming (said certain items rarely returned).

Serena's dressing room was large and spacious, a narrow French door leading into it from the long corridor, and another on the opposite wall leading into her bedroom. The walls were painted white with mirrored closets, chest-of-drawers and shelves lining them. Since it was high above the ceiling, some shelves rose far above their heads, and the old, grey-blue ladder had to be used to reach some of the items. The farthest wall was opened up to the back of the hotel by the tall-arched French window, overlooking the overgrown little garden. A vanity table of pale grey wood with a large, ornate mirror of silver was perched in front of it, and scattered on the worn surface was tortoise shell combs, a silver brush with her name engraved on the back and a Venetian hand mirror.

Though Serena's dressing room was only half the size of her mother's, she, unlike Jia Yamanaka, was not a housewife expected to don immaculate pencil skirts, modest cardigans and rows of pearls. Instead she filled the closets and shelves with glittering shoes, killer Manolo heels, leather jackets that made Tenten drool, stunning haute couture dresses and ballet costumes, and a stack of racy underwear that even made Ino blush.

They had spent most of the afternoon going through her things, for she had made an array of new purchases since the last time they visited. Even Tenten, ever the skeptical tomboy, was enthusiastic about trying on an array of different attires, though they usually ranged from the new Charlotte Russe leather jacket to the military-style winter coats and kick-ass over-the-knee leather boots that she simply _had_ _to get_. It was just their luck that Serena was barely five feet four inches, slender as a pencil with all the right proportions; hence her clothes fit their petite statures almost perfectly. But at some point even Ino the fashionista got tired of dolling herself up like Jennifer Love-Hewitt, and dressed up in silk slips and chiffon robes (notably Tenten wore a washed-out Taka Nomiya t-shirt and lacy black shorts) they had made their way to the kitchen.

With ten years of sleepover practice under her belt, Serena had dished up pancakes coated in maple syrup and topped with roasted apples, and presented lemon cupcakes with buttercream sprinkled with lemon salt and a box of colorful Ladurée macarons for the guests (the Harunos were regretfully extremely allergic to nuts), which she had brought back from Paris.

And while they stuffed their faces at the kitchen counter (Ino simply could _not_ resist the sumptuous, calorie-exploding dishes), had magically produced Paranormal Activity and the Princess and the Frog for them to watch on the large flat screen television hanging on her precious chinoiserie wallpapered wall. At some point they grew tired of being frightened half to death (Tenten, while being the man of the group, was quite the little, squealing girl in the face of good, old-fashioned horro), which was further fueled by their growing curiosity towards the supposedly important news Sakura was to give them, had retreated to her bedroom.

Her bedroom, much like Sakura herself, was bright, pink and still baring the traces of childish innocence. The walls were a pale pink, the ceilings white and ornate, whereas the dark floorboards were partly covered by white carpets and sheepskin rugs. Her four-poster bed, painted white with slender columns, was the heart of the room. Off-white canopies of sheer material flowed above the bed like the flutter of butterfly wings, contrasting the white bedding with its red hearts and the mountain of pillows with floral patterns and dancing monkeys. There was a clutter of medical journals and novels about the floor from where they had slipped from her hand during sleep, another stack upon the white nightstand.

The windows opened up towards the park, though she had drawn the creamy, thick curtains for the night. A chaise lounge, pristinely white, overlooked the park, crowded by a row of big, fluffy teddy bears she had collected over the years. On the wall opposite of the bed stood her mother's vanity table – one of those few pieces Sakura simply had begged her sister to bring with them when they moved.

It had once been the heart of her mother's movie-star dressing room, scattered with beautiful bottles of perfume and golden hairpins, and all manners of cosmetics she used to transform herself into a beautiful queen. Sakura had watched her avidly, and when her mother was gone, she dared spritzing herself with heady perfume and smear her lips in a luscious red, which Serena always had to wipe off before their parents returned from dinner parties and evening soirees.

The perfume bottles were gone, as Serena had taken them, and the smooth surface was covered in a clutter of lip glosses and boxes of powder, a bejeweled Victorian hand mirror, and all manners of knick-knacks she had gathered over the years; seashells from Australia, a hand-painted jewelry box bought on the flea market, a gaudy carousel music box and a tangle of necklaces.

"So let me get this straight," Ino drawled, plopping a piece of popcorn into her mouth as she leaned further against the mountain of pillows, regarding Sakura's anxious expression as she finished her story, "you're saying that the twins from hell are coming to live here. For like, the rest of high school".

"Until they're twenty, actually," Sakura mumbled, rubbing the back of her head. It was her great misfortune that the legal age in Japan was twenty, opposed to eighteen like in France.

"Four years then," Ino concluded, reaching over Tenten, who was plopped on her stomach, to reach her glass of water. She was trying, and failing, to make up for the binge she had just willingly put herself through, and knew that at some point during the night she would have to use the bathroom.

She paused for a moment as a thought struck her.

"_Unless_," she continued, allowing the word to hang in the air like a bad omen, "they decide to live here _forever_".

Tenten, reflexively smacked Ino's bare knee upon seeing Sakura's crestfallen expression, causing the blonde to moan in pain and rub the patch of sore skin.

"What was that for?" she demanded angrily, scowling down at the brunette as she slammed the glass of water down on the nightstand.

"This isn't _funny_ Ino," Tenten glared at her, motioning with her hand to Sakura, who looked ready to jump out through her window as the meaning of her words dawned to her. Clearly, the idea that the twins might live there _longer_ than four years, albeit it seemed likely as they might take a liking to the city after such a long period, had not even crossed her mind. But now that it was, her forgiveness of Serena was quickly waning and she was sorely tempted to stomp into the living room and demand to that she let Amaterasu continue to have custody of them.

Not that it would matter, for that ship had already sailed when she signed the documents last week; and neither would she dare challenge Serena after the long talk they had the day before. The twins were as Serena pointed out several times, going through some difficult times and needed a drastic change in scenery in order to prevent them from being completely broken by those events. Amaterasu, who was too busy ruling her empire, was not going to prevent their downward spiral into self-destruct unless it landed them in hospital (which was exactly what Serena _would not_ allow).

Yet for all the good reasons Serena listed, Sakura was feeling less and less sympathetic by the minute.

Ino sighed loudly in irritation.

"I'm just stating fact," she defended herself, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally. "No point in sugar-coating it".

While she might have a point and the easiest path was to swallow the bitter pill of reality, Tenten thought they could wait with that until the twins from hell came knocking on her door. That was at least how she was handling the wedding situation – utter denial, and when that didn't work, alcohol.

"Yeah, well, you're supposed to _comfort_ your best friend, not make it worse".

Judging by Sakura's expression, she was close to jumping out of the window.

Sighing dramatically, Ino pushed herself up in a sitting position, crossing her legs Indian-style in front of her. She grasped Sakura's hands, forcing the pinkette to meet her stunning blue gaze.

"Don't worry, Sakura," she told her, assuring. "We'll kick their asses if they try anything".

Sakura's dubious expression told her she didn't believe her. In fact, she was convinced that the moment her blonde friend set her sights on her cousin, she would be too busy gawking at his pretty face to even think to notice the bitchy attitude.

Alright, Luke might not be bitchy, but Keira certainly was.

And if Ino was too busy ogling Luke's abs all those snarky comments and little, vicious digs she had in her caliber would not be of much use as a weapon against Keira.

"Yeah. We'll watch your back for you," Tenten added.

"It's not my back I'm worried about. It's the front".

"Aren't you a little overdramatic?" Ino asked. "Don't you think they'll behave living under the same roof as Serena? You were the one who said they worshipped the ground she walked on".

"Yeah, they'll behave when she's there," Sakura countered. "It's the times when she turns her back I'm worried about".

That had always been the routine in the past. Luke would distract and Keira would take the opportunity to dump a cake on her head or throw a snarky comment in her face that resulted in a full-blown fight, which Sakura, of course, was blamed for in the aftermath.

"Then we'll just make sure they won't have the chance to do anything when she does turn her back," Tenten continued, scooting closer to rest her hand on Sakura's thin shoulder. "We'll be there for you".

"I hope you're right, Tenten," she spoke, mostly to herself, though there was a resignation in her tone that told the brunette she did not at all believe that. "I hope you're right".

* * *

><p>Hyuuga Compound<p>

The Hyuuga Compound was eerily silent.

It had been ever since they returned home after the memorial service.

Hinata stared up at the ornate ceiling, pale and shadowy in the darkness, only visible by the play of moonlight slipping in through the translucent curtains. She could not sleep, her mind riddled with questions she had no answer to, and constantly reminded of them by the tense silence that hovered over the large estate.

A tension among the members had been steadily building like a dark tempest on the horizon ever since the graveyard incident. Dinner in the great dining room had been one of the worst in Hinata's memory, far out-matching the first sit-down after her kaa-san's death. The only noises at the table had been the clatter of utensils against porcelain, but in retrospect the tiny scrapings had been worse than the ear-deafening silence. Her tou-san had borne the same stony expression all day, even as he ate, and even Hanabi was reluctant to approach him, whereas Neji had surprisingly been absent most of the day. Hinata had missed him greatly in his absence. Although he had never been a sympathetic boy, not since his father was killed, and still showed a great deal of contempt towards the main branch, herself included, his presence always brought her a sense of comfort. Kō had also been notably absent, having disappeared sometime during the sudden ruckus at the graveyard when the enraged clansmen had discovered the black rose upon their own monument like a mocking reminder.

It had been a relief to her frazzled nerves when Hiashi had risen and ordered the children away from the table. The adults, some twenty members, had also risen, and trailed behind their leader. The sisters had dutifully gone to their rooms, walking in silence before they parted in the hallway. Hinata would normally have stayed within her sanctuary, maybe bury herself under the coverlet and watch a chick flick, but then she had taken a peak out of her window. A small group maneuvered through the garden beneath, trailing over the stone path towards the old shoin. It was situated in the oldest part of the compound, separated from the main buildings by the gardens stretching towards the lake, and was used strictly for the private meetings between the adult members. Normally she would not have thought much of it.

But she was shocked to realize that they had brought her ojii-san with them.

He was a ragged figure, tall and thin and weather-bitten, his once regal, hard features faded away into deep lines and sallow skin, and his dark hair had turned into a steely shade of grey. The last decade had taken its toll on him, for he could no longer walk steadily and depended on a walking stick or the wheel chair Kō was presently maneuvering him in. He wore a pale, loose-fitted kimono and a brown outer robe that made him look even more fragile, although his eyes, milky and sharp, were the same as they had always been – more terrifying than her father's.

He had long since stepped down from his post as head of the clan, but still maintained great authority within the compound. He resided within the keep, and was rarely, if ever, seen. The last time Hinata had seen him was the day she had come home from the hospital in late February, when he had welcomed her home. She had not seen him the day previously, but his sudden presence made her wonder what was happening to the clan. And as she watched the small group move through the shadowy compound, she came to realize that the black roses had made a greater impact on her family than she had actually realized. For her grandfather to come out of his keep, the matter had to be a serious one.

And that was how she had found herself hunched over by the ornately painted sliding doors of the shoin, listening in on the agitated discussions inside like some common eavesdropper. But she could not help it; her curiosity peaked by the fact that her normally calm and collected family had lost their hard-earned sense of control, composures forgotten as they argued heatedly.

Though she could not make out much of their words, she knew they revolved around the massacre, and, as she dreaded, the Haruno name had surfaced more than once. They had quieted down when her grandfather's surprisingly sharp voice had cut through the air. She had vividly imagined him rise from his wheelchair, heavily leaning onto the smooth, black cane he had clutched in his grasp.

"We do not know the meaning behind those words," he told the clan members firmly, though he was struggling to keep the volume. "We need to remain calm in the face of this".

"What if it is a warning, Hisao-sama?" one Hinata could not distinguish through the door inquired.

"We will pay heed to it". Her ojii-san sounded out of breath, punctuating each word with more force than his withering lungs could handle. "We shall double security, and protect our own until this is cleared up".

"We cannot trust the police to handle this," someone else protested. "They failed the first time".

"It was a different time," her ojii-san replied. "When the Harunos…"

There was a snap of a twig, and Hinata went very still. Frantically her eyes darted between the sliding doors and the shadowed corner of the shoin. A pale face appeared, aristocratic and sharply cut in the darkness. Neji met her gaze, mouth set in a hard line. None of them moved, or said a word, for that little noise, much like Hinata's little indiscretion yesterday, set off an eerie silence within the shoin. Hinata's pearly eyes closed, her heart in her throat as she imagined the many pairs of eyes staring intently at the door, listening, waiting, for movement.

Shuffle of bare feet, swiftly moving across the tatami floor.

She was quick, darting from her crouched position with swiftness she thought lost in the accident, diving down the length of the shoin to round the corner.

The slide of the ornate doors echoed the night air as she pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath as her pulse pounded in her ears like drums.

There was that silence again, awaiting, like a predator searching for its prey. She wondered vaguely if Neji got away, but concluded that he must have, he was Neji after all. Swift and silent, quick on his feet, sharp reflexes rarely matched by his peers.

Then the doors shut, but she dared not move, knowing that footsteps could easily be swallowed in the soft grass. She could not recall when she had learned that…maybe a long time ago.

Maybe as a child.

There was a tiny shift in the air – the only warning she was given as a shadow came upon her, dark, looming, utterly terrifying. Her heart stopped and she parted her lips in horror, but the scream died in her throat as a warm hand covered her mouth, and strands of coffee brown hair brushed her face. Though the face was obscured in the darkness, the familiar cologne – sandalwood, leather, and a hot breath that smelled faintly of whiskey, told her it was her eavesdropper-in-crime.

She remained still in his grasp, a small sense of comfort spreading through her limbs. Neji, perhaps understanding she would not scream, let his hand fall to his side as he distanced himself from her, silently regarding her in the faint light of the paper lanterns dangling in the old, regal trees littering the garden.

They remained like that for a moment, she pressed against the shoin, pale-faced and out of breath, Neji stiff and still, face dark, hands clenched.

"Nii-san?" she was the first to break the silence, her voice barely a whisper. But he heard her clearly, and snapped to attention, shoulders squaring. "What is going on?"

He paused, hesitated.

"I don't know, Hinata-sama". He spoke curtly, voice devoid of emotion as it always was with her, laced with the faint, familiar traces of condescension. "You should go to bed".

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell _him_ to go to bed, clearly affected by her otou-san's liquor, and more so by what had occurred at the graveyard, but it fell away to sympathy.

He was hurting, and she should know. They both had lost someone they loved greatly, perhaps loved the most in this world. Her grief was as fresh as the scars on her legs, hidden shamefully under long skirts and pretty stockings, his, old, but so infected, _so polluted_, with suppressed emotion - suppressed _hatred_, that she sometimes thought he would break. Or let the poison overtake him completely; kill him off on the inside.

"Are you alright?" She had instead asked, softly. Hoped he could open up, yet knew he'd be too proud, too hateful, to let such a thing happen. But she pressed on. "With the flowers and…"

"Do not concern yourself with me, Hinata-sama," he cut her off sharply, causing her to flinch. He saw it, and his voice softened, barely audible. "Go to bed".

It sounded like a plead.

So she did as he told her. Slowly she detached herself from the old wood, moving across the cool grass in her black ballerina flats. When she passed him, she stopped, turning her head. He refused to look at her, eyes firmly fixed on the wall she had previously occupied, stiff as the old trees; straight has her ojii-san's cane.

"Good night, nii-san," she had told him, putting delicate stress on her last word, a reminder of what she regarded him as despite everything. He hadn't replied, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to slacken, although, she supposed, it could simply have been wishful thinking.

She twisted under the white sheets, rolling onto her side to grasp the soft, fluffy teddy bear. Kō had won it for her at the funfair four years ago. They named it together – Shiawase, meaning happiness, good fortune. She had tied an orange ribbon to its thick arm that night, seeing in her mind's eye golden hair and clear blue eyes, whisker-cheeks and suntanned skin, and silently wished that it truly would give her what she wished for. And as she did every night, she hugged it to her chest, her only source of comfort in a world where everything was cold.

She hoped that tomorrow, he'd notice her.

And then maybe, the world wouldn't be so cold.

* * *

><p>Itachi's Apartment<p>

After the memorial service, Sasuke, Shikamaru and Naruto had snuck off to Itachi's apartment to go through the newly acquired information Shikamaru had gotten his hands on. The original plan had been to wait to a more convenient time when the risk of Itachi peeking through the door wasn't much of concern, but in the wake of what happened on the graveyard, they (namely Sasuke) had felt the need to start up quickly.

They were gathered in his bedroom, crowding the ridiculously big computer desk that they had pulled away from the wall to create a makeshift table. Despite Sasuke being in possession of a bedroom the size of a dorm, equipped with a black leather couch and fat armchairs, and a state of the art entertainment center with surround sound. It had been the way for Itachi to grant him some privacy, particularly when Sayuri came along, and it was one of those rare things Sasuke was grateful for. The walls were painted a dark blue, and his king-sized bed was adorned with black and white sheets and pillows. One wall, by the door, was covered in shelves for books and movies, and his stack of cameras and newly acquired spy equipment. They had pulled the armchairs towards the desk, Shikamaru and Naruto perched on them, while Sasuke reclined in the large office chair.

Stacks of hand-written notes and poorly copied pictures were scattered across the black surface. It was the result of Shikamaru's hours of going through his father's files, lazily scribbling down the important details. Despite Sasuke's efforts to convince him otherwise, he had not made copies of the actual files – _again_, out of principle.

"I don't get why they never made one single arrest," Sasuke muttered darkly as he went through the list of suspects. Shikamaru hadn't been kidding when he told him it was as long as every elitist in the city, although the Nara boy had circled the most likely suspect with a red pen. They had narrowed it down to some twenty suspects, including the two remaining children of Waizu Haruno, as well as Danzō Shimura, Hiashi Hyuuga, half of the Hyuuga clan members who had the appropriate age, the former Hokage, and, to Sasuke's displeasure, his own uncle Madara. He had frowned when he read the names, and was quite grateful that Neji was absent as he would likely have strangled Shikamaru for suggesting that his family was somehow involved. But the lazy ass had told him in that I-know-better-than-you tone that he simply cross-referred the names with the physical descriptions of the three gunmen, as well as the motifs.

Madara, of course, became head of the clan, had undisputed rights to the Uchiha Estate and its fortunes, and gained control over the Uchiha Corporations prior to Itachi's return. He was also broad-shouldered and distinctively male, which could fit two out of three of the shooters.

Danzō Shimura had his reputation completely destroyed and his career evaporated when Kenji Haruno had exposed his sexual relations with young female students. He also fit the description of the two distinctively male shooters.

Hiashi Hyuuga had actively participated in the Tatsu feud, trying to buy up shares from Sarutobi, Yamanaka and Minato Namikaze. His attempt failed, and while he was unlikely to have killed his twin, Neji's father, he would have had motif to kill the Harunos, as well as Haza Sarutobi, the eldest son of the former Hokage, and shoot Minato Namikaze in the back. There was also the fact that he fitted the description of the male shooters.

And then there were the two Haruno siblings – Amaterasu Haruno, iron lady and the CEO of Tatsu Corporations, and Jiro Haruno, the mysterious businessman who had been absent from Konoha since 2000. Both inherited considerable fortunes, Amaterasu notably gaining the company she had fought to take over in 1999, and both fit the description of the slender shooter.

They were likely suspects, _but_, Shikamaru warned them, that did not mean that they actually had _participated_ in the shooting. Many theories built on that the murders could have been ordered; hence the shooters could be foreign assassins, or the real murderers had not been thoroughly investigated in the first place and got off the hook rather quickly.

Shikamaru sighed, rubbing his neck.

"The suspects are all influential, filthy rich and neck-deep in attorneys. It would have surprised me if they _did_ manage to have someone arrested".

"Nothing of this makes sense," Naruto groaned, rubbing his sun-tanned face in utter frustration. He had been staring at the notes for an hour, and yet he couldn't find one single thing that fit the intricate puzzle they were trying to put together.

Shikamaru nodded in agreement.

Nothing did make sense. Though some suspects had motifs to kill some of the victims, there was still not one single person who was likely to have wanted them all dead. Was it three ulterior motifs?

Highly unlikely.

There had to be some common ground for three people to join together to kill fifteen men and women.

Sasuke flung the notes irritably across the black desk.

He didn't have to be Shikamaru to know they weren't getting anywhere.

Clearly Shikaku Nara's manila folder did not contain half of what it was supposed to. The witness statements weren't among them. And without them they were walking through the events with blindfolds and ear plugs. It had been greatly disappointing, for he had been particularly interested in going through Serena Haruno's statement.

His mind was inevitably drawn back to that morning, though, instead of the mysterious, dark-haired woman he thought of pink hair and large green eyes.

Odd. Exotic.

Not the most flattering descriptions of the girl, but that was how Sasuke perceived her. She wasn't beautiful per se, or cute, but she was…different. _Haunting_.

With her pale pink tresses, alabaster skin and possessing such large, innocent and green eyes, she was difficult to forget. The contrasts of colors, which reminded him of spring and hanami viewings and his mother's garden, had her haunting his mind all day, like an elusive dream that clung to his subconscious. Always present, though not always clear.

She had triggered something, when their gazes met, in the same graveyard where he truly had acknowledged her existence. She had brought back the memories he had long since learned to suppress, returning them with vengeance. And now they refused to disappear, latching onto him with teeth and claws, forcing him to look back to the day on the graveyard. The odd doll, the odd girl, and he could not for the life of him understand how he had overlooked this so easily.

Never in the eight years they had attended the same schools together, had it struck him that she could be _that_ girl.

It caught him off-guard.

It _annoyed_ him.

But then again, _she_ was annoying.

Though he had never paid attention to her, it did not mean that he could not recall the weeping little girl who had spent most of elementary school stalking him along with the rest of his fan club.

But she was also an opportunity. He could not ignore the fact that she had free access to the one witness he had never heard the story from. Serena Haruno, his brother's ex, the girl Minato Namikaze took a bullet for during the shooting. Serena was the lock; Sakura was the key to reveal her secrets.

She might even be the key to his vengeance.

And that was something he could no longer look away from.

"What are you emoing about?" Naruto inquired, diverting his attention away from the tedious work he was being subjected to.

Sasuke rolled his eyes in irritation.

"There's no such thing as _emoing_, dobe".

That, of course, set off another glaring match between the two. Shikamaru, feeling as though he was the only grown-up of the three, sighed irritably, rubbing the back of his neck.

Seriously, couldn't they at least _pretend_ to be mature for a couple of hours?

"Mendokusē" he grumbled. "And we are supposed to investigate a massacre".

The sarcasm was not lost to Sasuke, who directed his attention to him.

"We aren't getting anywhere," he threw back at him, accusatory. "Why doesn't your father have the witness statements?"

"Like he'll tell _me,_" Shikamaru retorted.

"Well, without them we are walking blind". He leaned back in his office chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded the Nara.

Shikamaru did not answer, playing with the pen he had been holding with a pensive look in his dark brown eyes.

"There's the other option".

Sasuke arched his eyebrows at Shikamaru as he met his gaze. He unfolded his arms and crossed them behind his head as a cushion.

"I know".

Naruto scratched his head, a look of utter confusion on his suntanned face. Of all of his friends, he was the only one who actually looked as though he had spent time in the sun.

"What other option?" he asked, frowning.

"The Haruno sisters," Shikamaru elaborated, although his gaze was fixed on the Uchiha. "Have you thought about it?"

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear uncaring. Shikamaru did not need to know of the little incident at the graveyard, or how it was still (much to his own irritation) affecting him.

"It's the best chance we've got at this point," was his nonchalant reply.

"So you'll go through with it?" Shikamaru pressed.

"Yes".

It was Shikamaru's turn to arch his eyebrows, in surprise. Sasuke had seemed so adamant not to consider this option when Neji had brought it up in June; brushing it off with a lame '_I'll think about_ _it'_.

Shikamaru wondered if something had occurred that had changed his mind, or if it was simply because he was determined to gain fast results, something that he was subsequently denied by the lack of witness statements.

"Do you have a plan?" he inquired next, mostly to figure out how long Sasuke had been thinking of this option.

Sasuke furrowed his brow.

"Plan?"

Clearly, he hadn't thought much of it. Or, he arrogantly assumed that enlisting Sakura Haruno's help would be an easy task.

"You can't exactly walk up to her and randomly ask to hang out. Even the most dimwitted fangirl would get suspicious".

"Sakura isn't a dimwitted fangirl!" Naruto protested loudly.

"That's my point exactly," Shikamaru sighed. "She's smart. You need to have some sort of plan," he urged Sasuke firmly. "A way to approach her without being too forward".

Sasuke's lips twitched.

"Not too forward, eh?"

He pushed the chair towards his laptop, logging himself on.

Shikamaru wanted him to approach Sakura Haruno subtly?

Adding her on Facebook certainly should fit that criteria.

* * *

><p>Haruno Complex<p>

The topic of the devil twins had been brushed aside in favor of an eager discussion about their first day back at St. Konoha Academy as sophomores and junior respectively. Sakura and Ino were looking forward to no longer be the youngest at school, as well as being rid of that horrid homeroom teacher Koharu Utatane, who had finally decided to step down as teacher in favor of a comfortable position on the school board. That would mean that one of those new, hot teachers would be taking over for that wrinkled old hag. Ino personally hoped it to be Kakashi Hatake, the masked, mysterious and often absent English teacher. Sakura on the other hand hoped they would get Iruka-sensei. Kakashi shared too tight bonds with her past for her to feel comfortable about him becoming her teacher.

She looked more forward to history, for they were going to delve into the founding of Konoha and the history of the clans. She would have a great advantage when writing the term paper on the subject, for she knew her jiji had a treasure of handwritten books and scrolls from Konoha in the Edo period kept in his library. She only had to talk her sister into bringing her there and she would have top grades in no time.

As Ino and Tenten steered off topic by the mention of gymnastics (which was probably the only sport the both of them were interested in), Sakura logged onto her Facebook page.

She was snickering at Naruto Namikaze's ridiculous Facebook update…

_Naruto Namikaze is single and ready to mingle. Dattebayo!_

…when she took note of that she had a new friend request.

Which was odd.

Granted, Sakura wasn't exactly the outcast at school and had plentiful of friends and acquaintances to boast, but neither was she extremely popular, and receiving friend requests were a rarity these days. She wrecked her brain for potentials, for a minute wondering if Rock Lee was at it again, only to recall that she had given into the junior sports freak sometime last month and reluctantly accepted his request.

Curious, she clicked on the link. When her eyes zoomed in on the thumbnail-sized picture of Sasuke Uchiha, her mind went blank.

"Oh my God". The words escaped her lips in a breathless whisper, but Ino, ever-attentive for new gossip, turned her head from her current banter with Tenten over the popcorn to eye her curiously.

"What is it?" she inquired, peaking over Sakura's shoulder to get a look at whatever her friend was looking at, though with the way her face was glued to the computer screen she saw nothing.

"Oh my _God_". Was the only response she received, causing the blonde to be even more intrigued. Impatiently she shoved the pinkette away, sending her flying into Tenten's bowl of popcorn, to see what all of this was about, and let out a shrill bellow.

"_WHAT_!"

Tenten eyed her with arched eyebrows as Sakura threw herself on top of the pig's back to gape some more at the screen, not even thinking of retaliating the previous attack. Which was a rare occurrence indeed.

"I don't believe it". Ino continued in a whisper, her open jaw smack against the beddings as she stared straight at the haughty Uchiha's face.

"What's going on?" Tenten inquired, bemused at their childish behavior. She reached for her can of soda, perched safely on Sakura's nightstand as the two of them mumbled incoherently.

"Sasuke is friending me on Facebook," Sakura finally mustered to speak, eyes glittering.

Tenten choked on her soda, ungracefully sputtering the sweet liquid through her nostrils, the drops staining the bed sheets. Ino made a loud exclaim of disgust, scooting closer to Sakura to avoid being showered in Tenten's soda and snot.

"WHAT!" she screeched once she had enough air to fill her lungs, brutally shoving both girls off the bed to look into the screen. For a second she hoped the two of them were joking, but there he was, that son of a bitch, arrogant as ever. She glared ominously, positively glowering as her hands curled around the edges of the laptop.

_Sasuke Uchiha added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Sasuke Uchiha in order for you to be friends on Facebook._

What the fuck?

Since when the fuck did that fucker become friends with _her_ Sakura-chan?

Was he trying to piss her off?

Her dark gaze darted between the 'Confirm' and 'Ignore' buttons, quickly assessing her choices and went to click 'Ignore' when she was attacked simultaneously by her friends. Ino dug her claw-like nails into Tenten's borrowed t-shirt, forcefully dragging her away from the laptop while Sakura clutched her wrist, keeping her from moving her finger over the touchpad and click the desired button.

"Stop it, Tenny!" she demanded, scowling. "It's my Facebook-page!"

Tenten had no choice when she was shoved right off the bed by Ino. Her delicate, slim built was deceptive, for she was much stronger than her physique let on. How else could she effortlessly swing herself onto the uneven bars in the gymnastics hall?

The athletic brunette scrambled to her feet, facing both girls who had maneuvered to shield the hot pink laptop from further assault.

"You can't seriously be thinking of _friending_ him!" she exclaimed in horror at the expression on Sakura's face.

Her brow furrowed as she registered the words.

"Why not?" she demanded to know.

"Because he's _obviously_ messing with you!"

It was a way to piss her off, Tenten was sure. He got bored and decided to provoke her by friending _her_ best friend.

But Sakura was not agreeing with her train of thoughts, eyes slimming threateningly.

"Why is that obvious?" her tone was harsh, quivering.

Tenten paused, realizing she had just put a giant foot in her mouth. Sakura's eyes were dark, challenging, simply _daring_ her to continue.

"Because I'm a nobody?" she demanded when the brunette kept silent, fingers curling into tight fists at her sides. "Because my sister isn't marrying his brother?"

Sakura barely contained her anger. It stung, that Tenten would think so low of her. Just simply because he had never acknowledged her in the past, just simply because Serena and Itachi were no more…

'**But he did'** that inner voice whispered, firmly, convinced. **'He saw us. He **_**noticed**_** us'**

"I didn't mean it like that," was Tenten's weak reply, solemn, regretful. But Sakura was not fazed, her eyes hard as she turned towards the computer screen. With one last defiant look at the brunette she clicked the button.

Confirm.

_Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno are now friends. _

Tenten stared, in utter disbelief at the mocking screen.

_Fuck me. _

"I'm gonna get some chocolate," Sakura declared, jutting out her chin petulantly as she marched towards the door, leaving a horror-struck Tenten and an awed Ino behind.

The pinkette was practically seething as she rushed through the door, not even remotely excited by the prospect that she had just friended _Sasuke Uchiha_ on Facebook.

Which she should have been.

Sasuke Uchiha might have dated half of the female population, but he had quickly realized that girls were using the social network as a sleazy pick-up site and was rather careful about the girls he friended on the site. Any girl would be lying if they said they did not want to befriend him, know him, love him. With that sharp, black gaze, his handsome face and his mysterious, haughty demeanor, girls of all ages were helplessly sucked into his orbit like moths to the flame.

She should be elated that he chose her.

But there was a slight truth to Tenten's belief. What if he _was_ messing with her? He had never acknowledged her before, at least not until that morning.

She was broken from her thoughts as she entered the living room and her eyes instantly found Serena. She was sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table. Her back was turned, so she did not see Sakura emerge from the corridor. The pinkette paused two steps into the room, her anger and doubts forgotten as she saw the opened lid of a familiar box.

The box of secrets.

Sakura had one herself, shoved far under her dusty bed. It was an old lacquered wooden box which still smelled faintly of the cigars her grandfather used to keep in them. She hid all those little knick-knacks she had collected over the years, things that in the eyes of a little girl were treasures. But she knew Serena's box hid real secrets, secrets she did not want to share. She had tried many times to open it, but the intricate lock was far too robust, and Serena kept the key, a small, inconspicuous thing kept on a delicate gold chain she always wore around her neck.

Slowly Sakura stepped forward, stretching her neck to get a peek over Serena's shoulder. She was holding a faded photo, taken in a time of no worries. Serena's smiling face rested atop the shoulder of Itachi, enjoying a piggyback ride from him. He had a shadow of a smile on his handsome face, looking strangely at ease. Serena caressed his young face fondly with her thumb, and she could imagine the distant look in her eyes.

She lowered her gaze, catching a glimpse of papers, mostly letters and what appeared to be case files. Scattered photos, a slender, orange bottle and what appeared to be the sleek black handle of a…

The lid was smacked shut with a sharp, reverberant noise. Serena's hard eyes met her startled gaze as she turned her head to face her. In a fleeting moment she held Sakura's gaze with an expression that had Sakura greatly unsettled, before it softened and she smiled gently.

It was a deceptive smile, Sakura knew, for her nee-chan used it often to conceal her true thoughts. But Serena had _never_ used it on her before.

"Is everything okay?" Serena inquired; a slight edge to her voice that warned her not to ask her about the contents of the box.

"Yes," she responded, a little too quickly, though Serena gave no impression of having caught onto her little lie. "I was just getting some chocolate".

"Well, the chocolate isn't getting itself". The words were uttered in a poorly concealed accusation that Sakura wisely chose not to argue with. She didn't want Serena to have a reason to be upset with her so early into her return.

Without formulating a response she nodded and shuffled past her in her slippers towards the kitchen. She heard the lid being opened and closed once more, and the soft creak as Serena rose from the couch. Once she rounded the kitchen island she dared chance a look at her sister, who turned the retrieved key in the lock of the box. She looked up warily as she did so, but Sakura had already turned her head and opened the cupboard.

The groan of old wood alerted the pinkette to Serena's movements as she moved towards the chinoiserie wall. Sakura did not need to look to know what her sister was doing, for she had seen her do it many times, concealed in the darkness of the arched opening between the corridor and the living room.

She could vividly picture how Serena's crimson fingernails traced an unnoticeable line in the wallpaper, opening a concealed door to a hidden compartment, just big enough to room the box. The box scraped against the bottom of the small room, and then there was the soft noise of the door being shut. Sakura quickly retrieved a box of Tonka Chocolat Noir (one among many) from Jacques Genin's shop in Paris. The smells of tonka beans, cinnamon, vanilla and clove wafted her senses as she pulled it down, but she did not find herself looking forward to the first bite.

_Why exactly did Serena have a _gun_? _

Her mind was whirling with possibilities as she slowly turned to see her sister rise onto the very tips of her toes to grasp a book on one of the higher shelves. During the time they had spent in her bedroom, she had changed into a pair of striped cotton shorts and a black tank top, her silky locks still in the confines of her ponytail. Her movements were deliberately slow as she lowered her feet to let her heels touch the floor, before turning to face her little sister.

Sakura was sure she could carve the tension in the air with a knife, and made note not to get caught like that again. She said nothing as she walked back towards her room, passing Serena who headed towards the couch with a copy of _The_ _Count of Monte Cristo_.

"Don't be up too late".

Sakura paused in the archway, turning to look at her. She was already lounging on the couch, her head only turned slightly to look at the pinkette from the corner of her eye.

"I don't want you ending up with the sleeping routine of a vampire right before school starts". Sakura knew the underlying meaning in Serena's warning tone.

_Don't _ever_ do that again._

"I won't," she promised solemnly, before retreating back to her room. Serena remained silent, listening intently for the retreating footsteps and the creaking of the door. Once she was certain that she was gone, she relaxed her posture, slowly placing the book onto the coffee table with no intent to read it.

She needed to be more careful about where she was opening the box from now on. Sakura was no longer the thirteen year old girl who always was in bed when she should and always did what she was told. Her fingers grasped the small, golden key dangling from her throat, twirling the little object as she stared pensively at the chinoiserie wall.

Perhaps the old hiding place had outdone its purpose.

There was a low buzzing sound as her phone vibrated on the coffee table, NEW MESSAGE flashing on the blue screen. She thought little of it as she grasped the phone and unfolded the inconspicuous message, but the moment she did so she regretted it.

From: UNKNOWN

Congratulations on your victory.

It was not addressed.

The chill that had slowly abated since that morning returned, and her fingers felt like ice as she slowly lowered the phone onto the table. A prickling sensation tickled her neck, an instinct that told her someone was watching. She left the couch, her heart beating heavily, almost painfully, against her ribcage. With deliberate calm she approached the large windows, sharp viridian gaze searching the neighboring buildings, the darkened streets and alleyways.

_There. _

It was a shadowy figure, obscured in the darkness by the broken street light. The only give-away was the glowing tip of a cigarette, and the white smoke escaping a mouth she could not see. And while she could not see the eyes, she knew they were staring right back at her.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that was yet another chapter done, and I hoped you all liked it.

For those who have read it before, this is quite a twist from the original plot, but I wanted to force up the pace and inject a little more intrigue into the mix. I like the thought of the Japanese graveyard, which is quite different from where I come from, with its monuments and crypts and urns of ashes, and seemingly as I did start the story at the graves, I thought it would be only proper to have the characters revisit it. The graveyard scene is, I believe, foreboding in regards to Sasuke's sudden growing awareness towards her.

Now, Sakura has been overshadowed by some of the other characters in the past two chapters, but here comes the turning point, which will be made even clearer in the chapters to come.

I know Neji hasn't made much of an appearance on stage since the first chapter, but he will play a more prominent role in the next chapter.

This is the first chapter with Madara's POV in it. So as not to confuse anyone who read the last chapter, he is _not_ the same Madara who fought Hashirama (as that would make him ridiculously old and hence of little use to me and my plot – I need a dark, hot and sinister Uchiha for the part), but he does maintain the same personality traits and appearance as his ancestor. I hope I managed to capture him, although I found it difficult as I recently discovered Tobi/Madara likely _isn't_ Madara (this is why I have given up trying to make sense of the canon-verse series), and might be a little off in the portrayal of him. If you have any ideas on how to make him more Madara-like, please throw me an input or two.

The pastries from Hiruhan were inspired by Paris Pâtisseries' blog about pastries he has eaten in Paris, and I swear I was drooling all over my keyboard staring at all of those delicious little creations and simply had to add some of them into the story. If you are interested in drooling all over your keyboard, starry eyed as you fantasize about digging your teeth into these sumptuous pastries, I've got a link to his blog on my profile.

As for the next chapter it will likely take a couple of weeks, as I am about to take an exam and I really don't want to fail it.

And thank you so much for your reviews, Sw33th3art, LilyVampire, SasuSakuKawaii, Reignashii and missjewels!

To Sw33th3art, thank you for your review! I know Sakura hasn't taken much of the spotlight in the previous chapters, but she is as of now. As to Serena, she plays a rather large role in the lives of the characters in my story, particularly in regards to Sakura, but I do get your point. Now as she has finally made her appearance she will play a smaller part, and Sakura will step up. I hope you liked this chapter and will continue reviewing!

To LilyVampire, thank you so much for your review! I am really glad you liked the scene with Sasuke - I was very happy with it myself. I am likely not doing the whole school hierarchy-thing, as I think it takes the attention away from all the other plots, but rest assured she isn't going to be a wallflower at school. I'm just toning that part down.

To SasuSakuKawaii, thank you so much for your reviews of chapter 1 to 3! I am really happy that you like it. As for your questions; yes, Serena did quit her career in order to take custody of the twins (a little difficult to be a good caretaker if you're gone all the time). And yes, Amaterasu is the older sister of Kenji, who is Luke and Keira's father, so she is their father's sister. As for Madara getting Serena's number, I can't give away spoilers, but it will be made clear to you soon. I hope you liked this chapter as well!

To Reignashii, thank you for reviewing again! I am really happy that you liked the previous chapter. As for Sakura, I toned down her temper a little at the beginning, but she certainly hasn't lost her bite. I showed a small peek of that in this chapter, although there will be a lot more where that came from in the next chapter. And now that she has been noticed she isn't going to stay in the shadows much longer. I am glad that you liked Hinata's backstory, for it is likely the most complex one aside from Sakura's own childhood. Kō wasn't a character known to me until a couple of months ago, and I instantly fell in the love with the thought of giving Hinata someone to rely on. The morse code thing was made up on a whim, seeing as they live across the same lake, but it might play a part later in the plot. I think Tenten and Sasuke make very unlikely allies normally, but seeing their mutual dislike both for the wedding and for Sayuri, its a funny combo. But yes, he was a bastard in regards to Ino. I hope you liked this chapter as well, and hope you will continue reviewing!

To missjewels, thank you so much for your review! I am really happy that you like my story and the portrayal of the characters. As for more action between Sakura and Sasuke, there wasn't too much in this chapter, however, in the next one they will meet face to face (and it won't be the last time). I hope you liked this chapter as well!

And of course, please review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

Yours truly,

Kasumi Ayane

* * *

><p><span>Characters: <span>

Iwashi Tatami is a chunin from Konohagakure in the canon-verse series. He is said to be very methodical in nature, and reserved in public. I thought he would fit perfectly as a detective at the Konoha Metropolian Police Department.

* * *

><p>Ladurée - is a luxury cakes and pastries brand based in Paris, France. It is known as the inventor of the double-decker macaron, fifteen thousand of which are sold every day. They are still one of the best known makers of macarons in the world.<p>

A macaron is a sweet meringue-based confectionery made with egg whites, icing sugar, granulated sugar, almond powder or ground almond, and food coloring. (Due to the almonds, the Harunos are unable to eat them).

* * *

><p><span>Japanese<span>:

Sotoba - a separate wooden board on a stand behind or next to the grave monument, where the names of the deceased are written on.

Jiji/ojii-san – grandfather, old man

Otou-san - father

Obaa-san – grandmother

Himitsu-bako - Japanese puzzle box, or secret box, is is a box that can only be opened through some obscure or complicated series of manipulations. Some puzzle boxes may require only a simple squeeze in the right spot, whereas others may require the subtle movement of several small parts, to open the box.

Nii-san - big brother

Hai – yes

Dobe – idiot or dead last

Mendokusē - troublesome

Edo period - is the time from roughly 1600 through 1868 in the history of Japan.

A shoin is a type of audience hall in Japanese architecture


	5. Perplexity Scheme

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Perplexity Scheme**

_Women are unpredictable things_

* * *

><p><em>13th of August<em>

Downtown Konoha

"…ballerina assoluta, announced to the media only hours before her grand performance at Palais Garnier in the lead role as Odette, that she was going to retire from the spotlight after an outstanding three-year long career".

Pain snorted inelegantly and turned down the volume on the television. The same announcement had been aired repeatedly since yesterday afternoon, and quite frankly, he was getting sick of it.

He was the image of casual elegance, reclining on the beat-up, red couch dominating the living room with its bare brick walls and groaning dark floorboards, legs crossed at the ankles and arms draped over the back of it. He was quite the odd character, with striking orange hair and piercings on nearly every visible part of his body, which was clad in black jeans and a tight-fitted t-shirt. Purple, swirling eyes lazily drifted away from the screen, fixing itself on the open doorway leading into the kitchen.

"Can you believe how many times they've repeated that shit?" he drawled, traces of irritation laced in his deep tenor. There was no immediate response, only the clatter of porcelain and utensils. Then:

"I prefer that broadcast," a softer, more feminine voice spoke. "Instead of those bloody roses". A pale face peaked through the doorway. She was quite the beauty, with stunning amber eyes and elegant features framed by locks of blue hair, her head crowned by one of those white paper flowers she was prone to make. Her expression was grim as she looked at her longtime boyfriend through lowered lashes.

"Has she called you yet?" she inquired.

Pain shook his head.

"No".

Konan made a noise of irritation as she leaned her tall frame against the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest. She wore a tight-fitted blue sweater and dark jeans, balancing her dainty feet in four-inch black leather boots. It was the attire she wore when drilling the bartenders and rigging the stage for a night of mind-blowing debauchery, pounding music and free-flowing liquor. She was hosting the biggest event of the summer season, marking the end of freedom and return to real life with the Red Affair. She had started it three years ago in an effort to rein her horrible mood, which could only be described as bleeding red rage; so she decided on a whim that she would host something containing that color. It had been a shocking success, and now she hosted it every August 13th. People had been booking tickets for months already, so the place would be packed.

"You know, I'm starting to get pissed off," his girlfriend declared, although she maintained a calm composure. "We know she is in the city. I don't get why she hasn't called".

Pain sighed, detaching one arm from the back of the couch to rub his forehead. "It's difficult for her, Konan," he reminded her firmly, meeting her golden gaze with his swirling purple one. "Give her some time".

She stared back at him hard, lush lips flattening to a thin line. To anyone else it would be a clear warning of her displeasure – too bad Pain was unyielding. He met her gaze relentlessly, keeping his lazy composure. Eventually she gave up on their little contest, shrugging her shoulders in irritation as she withdrew her gaze. The edges of Pain's lips quirked up in amusement as she jutted out her lower lip defiantly.

"Fine," she gave in. And then, in a threatening tone that simply _dared_ him to argue: "But I'm going over there tomorrow".

Pain's lips twitched at her stubbornness.

"Fine," he gave in. "We'll both go".

As if on cue, the chime of a cellphone echoed the bare brick walls of the living room as it buzzed to life on the coffee table. Konan was quick to retrieve it before Pain's outstretched fingers reached it, a gleam of triumph in her gaze as she read the caller I.D. She wasted no time clicking the answering button and bringing the phone to her ear.

"Serena," she greeted the caller on the other end in a faux-stern voice as her lips tugged into a smile. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten us".

"_I don't think it's possible to forget you Konan,"_ was her saucy reply. Then, serious: _"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I've had a lot on my plate lately". _

The smile fell slightly as amber eyes flashed to the screen. Images of the graveyard as people broke into panic and journalists jumped over the picket fence was showing for the fifteenth time that morning.

"So I've seen," she stated dryly. "How are you holding up?"

There was an audible sigh on the other end.

"_Disconnected phones, paparazzi and the same images repeated on every news channel known to God". _

Konan could envision her shrugging her shoulders.

"_Could be worse". _

It had been, ten years ago.

The media hadn't just been repeating the same clips and tried to pry into their lives – they had been continuously _hunting_ for the newest pictures of the grieving families, the survivors of that ballroom. Worst was it when Sakura had somehow gotten out of the house a week into the media vortex that held the city captive for years, and was bombarded by fifty journalists. They had flashed their cameras, shoved their microphones in her face, completely disregarding the child's tears and desperate cries for her 'tou-san' as they tried to get the newest and juiciest scoop for their news channel. It had been a heart wrenching moment that had caused the whole city to rise in uproar. The media had made their distance from the victims after that.

"Guess so". She didn't argue.

Then an idea hit her, making her eyes widen slightly. She ignored Pain's quirked eyebrow, and the suspicious gleam in his eyes.

"Any plans for tonight?"

"_If by plans you mean dodging the public spotlight, then yes, I have plans"._ It was supposed to be a joke, but the humor drowned in a sea of bitter sarcasm. And exhaustion.

Konan didn't have to have Serena right in front of her to know that she hadn't slept last night. She couldn't blame her.

"That sounds boring," she deadpanned, hoping it brought just the tiniest fraction of a smile to her lips. "Why don't you come to Taka Nomiya tonight? _You_ have been missing out on the biggest event of the season three years in a row".

Predictably Serena hesitated. Konan counted three seconds with her free hand bore she replied.

"_I can't"._ Konan rolled her eyes. Sometimes her friend was just a little too predictable. _"I've just gotten back_".

"If you're telling me you can't come because of Sakura, I'll tell you to drag her down there with you". Her tone left no room for discussion. "I'm sure she won't object".

Knowing Sakura, she'd be squealing and jumping about knowing she was given a free-pass to the Red Affair. She had tried to sneak in last year with that blonde friend of hers, but seeing as Serena would have her head on a silver platter if she knew she allowed her fifteen year old sister into a bar without her permission, she had them both driven home by Hidan. He hadn't been too happy about it, but hadn't dared make protest when she threatened to roast his balls and serve them as appetizers.

Serena gave another pause.

"_Would you mind including three little friends of hers?" _

Konan could envision Sakura's three BFFs, whom decidedly weren't little, as she made the math in her head. Three extra teenagers couldn't possibly harm.

"Sure. Why don't you come over here and I'll give you the VIP-cards?"

Pain's eyes visibly slimmed at the mischievous glint in his girlfriend's eyes. She brought her finger to her lips to tell him to keep quiet as he went to make protest at her scheme.

"_Yeah. I'll jog over now"._ Clearly she was in the park. That'd give Konan ten minutes to concoct her little plan.

"Perfect. I'll see you soon".

The other line went dead and she lowered the phone back onto the table with a triumphant smile on her lips. Pain eyed her through narrowed slits.

"What are you up to?" he questioned in a light, suspicious drawl.

She gave him one of her razor sharp smiles, the one that left no room for argument if he valued sleeping in her bed.

"We are calling the gang," she told him instead, pointing at the phone. "We're having a little reunion party tonight".

* * *

><p>Haruno Complex<p>

The penthouse was quiet.

It usually was, but in the wake of yesterday one would have expected every phone to chime wildly and the building becoming a virtual prison with the press surrounding it like an angry mob. But there were two factors keeping such a nightmare from unfolding; one – they had blocked IDs on all their cellphones, and two – the press didn't know where they were living.

Sakura had worried that they might have managed to locate them during the night. But she didn't have to peak out of the window to know this - Serena had been gone when Sakura got up that morning. Had the press been outside like a bunch of rabid dogs howling for them to _'break the silence'_, her sister wouldn't have ventured outside.

Naturally it wasn't much of a surprise for Sakura to find her gone, for Serena had always been up at the crack of dawn to jog through Midori Park. It was a religious morning ritual, something that she never failed to do unless she was deadly ill or out of town. But Sakura suspected that she would be jogging anyway, whether in Paris or Beijing or Konoha, it probably did not matter.

And Sakura had counted on it.

Ino and Tenten were still asleep when she woke, so she had taken the opportunity to sneak into the living room.

And found the hiding place empty.

That really wasn't much of a surprise either.

Her sister had a tendency to change hiding places once she was aware of that Sakura knew them. Too bad she knew all of her hiding places. She probably put it in the safe behind the picture obaa-san painted, in her bedroom. But Sakura wasn't as interested in the location of the box as what it contained. What she really wanted was to see if her eyes weren't deceiving her last night. And if they weren't, she wanted to know the exact reason why her sister had a real _gun_ in their home. After everything that happened, after all the damage caused by guns, why would she even _think_ to bring one into their house?

The only thing stopping her was the small fact that the key was safely resting against her sister's collarbone, out of her reach.

She had pondered over the possibilities as she whipped together batter for Norwegian waffles, but was prevented from further elaborating her theories when Ino and Tenten, droop-eyed and half-asleep shuffled themselves into the kitchen area, having smelled the makings of breakfast. She served them waffles with strawberry jam and whipped cream, Ino of course half a portion so as to watch her weight. Tenten on the other hand dug into her tower of waffles like a starved wolf, Sakura shaking her head in amusement at her unladylike behavior. The two of them had made up quickly, although Tenten still expressed great skepticism at Sakura's friendship status with Sasuke.

Which Sakura each time promptly told her to shut up about.

She didn't want to think about it anymore.

Half the night had been spent pondering Serena's gun and black roses, the other half Sasuke Uchiha. The look they had shared on the graveyard, and the friendship request that seemed to change everything, yet nothing. The world hadn't exactly shifted under her feet, yet she felt that something wasn't as it had been two days ago. But that might just be her mind playing tricks on her.

_Hopeful_ little tricks at that, courtesy of her figurative other.

It whispered all these childhood fantasies in her mind, telling her this was her chance, though she herself couldn't help but feel apprehensive. The whole thing seemed so sudden.

They were half-through breakfast when Serena returned, fresh-faced, brow sleek with sweat, and carrying a pristine white box under her arm.

"Hey girls," she greeted them cheerily, planting a kiss on Sakura's forehead as she passed her by the kitchen island. The girls echoed her greeting, Sakura quirking a pale eyebrow at her, slightly surprised to have been so quickly forgiven for her little indiscretion yesterday. Serena did not notice, placing the box on top of the granite counter. Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on it, recognizing the little swirling logo of a boutique in Westcorner selling haute couture dresses.

"Slept well?" she inquired.

The replies were muddled, no one really formulating a coherent sentence as they continued to stare at the box. With an amused little huff she pushed it towards Sakura, who nearly dropped her fork.

"For _me_?" she asked, mouth agape, incredulity in her wide green gaze.

"Yes".

"Let me see!" Ino exclaimed, nearly tossing herself across the counter to grasp the box. Sakura, of course, wasn't willing to let her look at it first, creating a tug of war between the two of them.

Serena's lips twitched.

"Since we haven't gone shopping much this summer," she began, offering Sakura a warm look that said _'I'm sorry'_, "I thought to indulge in a frivolous little thing I hope you want to wear tonight".

"To_night_?" Sakura drew the word out, eyes glinting hopefully as she tugged the box forcefully from Ino's greedy little fingers. Said blonde toppled over on the counter, an ungraceful bundle of spindly limbs. Tenten snorted in pure enjoyment at the sight.

Serena leaned her palms on the counter, eyeing the three of them.

"Have you got any plans for today?"

Ino and Tenten snapped to attention like dogs being promised a treat, all ears and eyes. Sakura took the distraction as an opportunity to open the box, finding to her great delight carefully folded hot red lace and chiffon amongst silk paper, all signed and sewn by Elie Saab.

"Not much," Ino shrugged her shoulders noncommittally.

Sakura's hands brushed the soft, delicate material in awe, with a sudden growing awareness of where she was going to tonight. She barely suppressed a squeal, not wishing to spoil the climax her sister had built.

"Well, clear your schedules and call Hinata", she produced four red VIP-cards that made their eyes go impossibly wide, "because you are hereby invited to Taka Nomiya's Red Affair tonight".

"Oh my God!" Ino squealed, already out of her seat to grab one of the glossy cards. When her manicured fingers curled around the edges and she found the object to be very real, she jumped up and down like a small, eager child.

"We are going to Taka Nomiya!" she declared loudly, as if wanting the entire world to know.

Tenten, a little more subtle, though certainly just as excited, accepted the card Serena handed her, hazel eyes glittering. She had never been to the Red Affair before, but according to Ino, who had somehow managed to get inside last year, had told her it was the perfect opportunity to get drunk, do bad deeds and get away with it.

Something she would need before school, and her evil sister, took its final toll on her.

Sakura meanwhile had lifted the dress out of the box, even more awed at the way the skirts swayed softly as she lifted above her head, already picturing herself in it. Ino, sensing expensive material and designer seam swiveled on her bare feet and before Sakura could blink the material was snatched from her hands. She might have been angry, hadn't it been for the slight envy on her friend's expression as she examined the dress.

"Wow," she muttered, mostly to herself as her trained eye swept over the delicate seams and the expensive lace, clearly seeing how it would suit nicely with Sakura's petite form. She threw a sideways glance at Serena, busy serving herself waffles as she spoke with Tenten, wondering how on earth a girl in sweatpants and sweat-soaked tank top would even be allowed inside a haute couture shop.

_Only Serena_, as Sakura would say.

"You like it?" said woman inquired to her sister through a mouthful of waffles and jam.

Sakura beamed at her, snatching the piece of haute couture from Ino's hands. Her eyes glittered as she twirled with the dress pressed tightly to her chest. Inevitably she imagined flashing lights and dark agates and the handsomest boy in the world, allowing her inner mind to fantasize that he might perhaps notice her in hot red lace, and like what he saw. She wondered if she should sweep her hair up or curl the pink locks, and whether or not red lipstick would be too bold a color with the ensemble. All the while a small voice whispered _'foolish, foolish'_ in her deaf ears.

"I love it," she declared, smiling brilliantly.

And maybe, someone else would love it too.

* * *

><p>Hyuuga Compound<p>

Neji unwillingly made his way down for brunch that day.

It was late morning, bordering on noon, and brunch was held in the private breakfast room in the Westwing. It was situated in the back, overlooking the garden and the shoin, the lake partly obscured from view by the trees. His uncle was already seated at the breakfast table of polished mahogany, reading _Konoha Daily_ and sipping black coffee from delicate porcelain. Neji instantly recognized the intricate blue patterns along the rim as part of his aunt Hinote's tea set.

She always used it in the salon with the heavenly blue tapestries and the creamy couches scattered with golden and blue embroidered silk pillows, when entertaining her friends or avidly listening as her children told her about their day at school. She had always doted upon them, Neji and Hinata, even though Neji wasn't her son. It hadn't been appropriate, as Hiashi-sama told her often, but the American, stubborn clan mistress had never cared for propriety. She kept on treating him like her own, helping him with his homework and telling him stories about his father.

Though he would never admit it, her death had hit him hard.

And seeing the porcelain he had long since thought packed and stowed away with the rest of her things, was like a punch to the gut. His gaze sought out Hinata, seated at her father's right. She was impeccably attired in delicate white lace, the fabric brushing past her knees. Sasha, the housekeeper, had styled her dark blue locks into a French braid, and little pearl earrings dangled from her lobes. She was pale-faced, almost ashen, as she delicately stabbed at the croissant on her platter, also a part of her mother's china, with a silver fork.

Hanabi on the other hand seemed completely unaware of the fact that her father had chosen her dead mother's china to eat from, busy eating her healthy portion of croissants and strawberries with crème fraiche. However, she was not oblivious to the pressing silence, keeping the scraping of utensils and chewing of food to an extreme minimum.

Hiashi barely looked up when he heard Neji's approaching footsteps, asserting his attire. He had a zero tolerance for sloppiness, deeming it inappropriate to dine in slacks and t-shirts even if it was a private brunch. He seemed satisfied with the crisp white, tailored linen shirt and black pants he had put on after his cold morning shower, though there was a dangerous edge to his voice as he greeted him.

"Good morning, Neji". Neji paused in his response as he rounded the table to seat himself at Hiashi's left, one seat down as he was face to face with Hanabi, clearly stating his lower position within the household. Hiashi was all subtlety when he was expressing his displeasure to the children, though they never failed to catch onto it. Like Hinote's china and the slight edge to his words that told him he knew of last night's indiscretion.

Or _indiscretions_.

Neji hoped he had only discovered the whiskey-part of last night, and not the eavesdropping one. Alcohol he could forgive, considering the circumstances, but not eavesdropping on clan matters that he was not to take any part of. But how could he not take part of it when Hisao-sama had been brought from his keep to handle the matter?

A matter of dead roses on the grave.

His _father's_ grave.

"Good morning, Hiashi-sama," he returned the greeting respectfully, bowing his head slightly as he seated himself. Hinata's eyes darted to his for a split second, glazed and fearful, before she lowered her gaze to her platter once more. She did that sometimes; to warn him that they were in trouble. Not that it was needed this time – he knew he was screwed.

"Any plans for today?" his uncle inquired casually, breaking the tense atmosphere pressing down on them.

_Fuck no_, Neji thought inwardly.

He kept his eyes firmly on the plate in front of him, studying the intricate blue patterns running along the delicate edges.

His uncle was on to him. He was not about to paint a bull's eye on himself and be target for that piercing gaze any more than what was strictly necessary. Or worse, face punishment in the dojo.

Besides, he was still pissed at Sasuke for starting the investigation without him present. Naruto had conveniently told him last night that they were at his apartment looking over Shikamaru's notes from his father's files yesterday when he was raiding Hiashi's liquor cabinet.

"A-actually otou-san, I was wondering if I could attend a party tonight," Hinata inserted, nervously fiddling with her hands in her lap. Neji shot her a look of surprise, which was returned by a pair of big doe eyes begging him to say he was going too.

Hiashi frowned as he fixed his gaze on Hinata, who remained perfectly seated, fighting off the blush that slowly crept over her collarbone.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and while his uncle busied himself questioning Hinata of who was likely to attend and where this said party was to be held he slipped it into his hand and chanced a look.

_VIP-spots at Taka Nomiya tonight. _Please_ say yes! _

Neji's eyebrows disappeared above his hairline. The Red Affair? Since when the hell was Hinata going to the Red Affair? Even he couldn't land himself a ticket!

The beginnings of a devious smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he hurriedly wrote a reply, all the while pretending to listen to Hiashi's lecture about it being inappropriate for Hinata to attend a party in _downtown_ where there would be boys and alcohol.

_Get me in and I will. _

Only a moment passed before his screen blinked once more.

_Alright. _

"Actually, uncle," he quickly addressed Hiashi, who averted his gaze from his daughter with an inquiring arch to his eyebrow, "I am going to attend that party tonight as well".

"Were you, Neji?" his uncle's sharp gaze searched his face for the slightest hint of a lie, but seemingly coming up with nothing settled back into his chair and returned to reading the newspaper.

"Well, in that case I see no problem with it. But you'll both be back by midnight".

"Of course, uncle". Neji nodded firmly, before casting a glance across the table at his cousin. Hinata mouthed a '_thank you'_, which was responded to by the vibration of the cellphone in her hand.

_You better get me in_.

Her fingers quickly clicked in letters, returning a response.

_Of course, nii-san. _

Opaline eyes twitched in irritation at the way he was addressed, but brushed it aside. She was after all his ticket to the season's biggest event. Casting a look at Hiashi, sipping on his lukewarm coffee, he once more returned his attention to his cellphone, hurriedly sending a message to the brooding Uchiha he intended to have a chat with.

_Guess where we R going 2 night. _

* * *

><p>Downtown Konoha<p>

Taka Nomiya was Konan's baby.

A dream carefully molded and nursed into becoming the most popular club in downtown, even though daylight didn't do the place any justice. The black sleek stone walls and large, dark glass windows seemed like a hostile Star Wars ship where it was nestled between pale brick buildings in the middle of dusty, rundown Kurama Street. And with the traces from last night's party on the street in the shape of broken glass, vomit and trash, it certainly wasn't a flattering sight for the passersby.

But at nightfall, when the street was clean and the walls melted with the darkness, leaving only the splendor of blue and purple tinged lights to slip through the gaping windows, and the place throbbed with blaring music and gyrating bodies it was quite something else. Over the last couple of years its popularity had boosted immensely, and still reaped great success, even with Konoha's upper class, who dared venture outside their safe haven of Westcorner for a night of drunken debauchery.

Tonight was no different. Students of St. Konoha Academy and the University were getting their last hangover before the holidays ended, and men were escaping their overbearing wives and clingy girlfriends. Girls, freshly single from bad breakups, the unhappily married forty-something housewives and the plain Jane Eyres were crowding the floor and the bars in scant, outrageous dresses, searching for a nightly adventure with some of the male counterparts. It was after all a red affair, and red was the color of passion.

The entire block was packed with taxis and vehicles honking their way through the street to let off intoxicated VIPs and hopeful minors. The girls had avoided the crowd by parking a good distance from the flashy building, approaching it safely on foot. Five burly guards flanked the double doors of glass, dressed in black uniforms with an eagle, Taka Nomiya's very own symbol, sewn on their chests, keeping the impatient crowds in line as they checked IDs and bags for alcoholic beverages. Since Serena had the great fortune of being BFF with the owner, she only needed to flash the red VIP-card and point at the four girls behind her to slip inside, avoiding the nuisance of waiting in the queue.

Inside they were met by booming music and an amazing view of the origami flowers dangling from old chandeliers in the ceiling, colored shades of red that shifted in rhythm with the switching lights. The marble floor was already filled with a sea of red-dressed patrons and other guests sporadically dancing to the beat of the DJ's pounding music, while the booths along the walls were also relatively filled up. On the second floor, where the VIP lounges were situated with a perfect view of the pulsating life below, were still empty, though perfectly decorated with red velvet drapes and little, decorative Tiffany lamps.

The bar was located in the center of the room, circular to allow the guests to approach from all directions. It was of dark, old mahogany, with scarlet counters, and fancy, pale lamps were peaking down from the ceiling. The circular 'back bar' was elaborately decorated with etched glass and mirrors, reflecting the hundreds of quality glasses and bottles of liquor perched on the shelves. And like a reigning queen, Konan stood behind the counter, watching the crowd with satisfaction, while skillfully handing out drinks to the guests.

She was effortless in the way she made margaritas and mojitos and Bloody Marys, an image of sophisticated urban elegance in a crimson silk top from Vivienne Westwood and dark, tight-fitted jeans. Her bartenders wore similar attires; red sweaters and dark jeans to fit the theme. Upon seeing Serena, stunning in a tight red number, she waved red-painted fingernails for her to come over.

"Why don't you find yourself a table?" Serena turned and smiled, indicating at the room with her hand. "I'll be busy at the bar". She pointed towards Konan with her thumb, delicate bracelet jiggling with the movement.

"Ok," Sakura nodded, although she had rather preferred it if her sister had stayed to help them find a table, for every single one in the premises was occupied, some only by a handful, but they found it a little too awkward to sit down with them.

They stood in the sea of red, three pretty girls in pretty dresses. Hinata had yet to make her presence known, as she was forced to drag Neji and his friends with her to the party. Tenten was certainly not happy that he was going to enjoy the privilege they had been bestowed, although, inwardly she knew she was simply too embarrassed about their little…_indiscretion_ at the engagement party to deal with him tonight.

She looked surprisingly older in her skintight, red dress. Her brown locks were meticulously curled and glossed over, falling teasingly across her shoulders, and Ino had forcibly painted her lips a glossy red. Sometimes she thought herself to be Ino's three-dimensional paper doll (rather that than her _Barbie_ doll), helpless in the face of the blonde's determination (and scary temper) to dress her as she chose.

Ino herself, ever the provocateur, opted a bandage dress that pushed up her small breasts and made her look even slimmer than she was, and the cascades of golden locks were put up in an elegantly wrapped ponytail. The boys certainly didn't mind her choice, eyeing her with mild interest, and some, with no good intentions in their eyes.

Sakura was stunning in the hot red lace and chiffon Serena had bought her; a mixture of flirtatious seduction with its dipping cleavage and bare arms, and modesty, the hemline brushing her knees. Serena had helped her curl her waist-length tresses, the way their kaa-san used to style hers, and when her sister hadn't looked, dabbed some of her precious drops of Cathusia's Il Profumi di Capri behind her ears. The smells of lilies and sandalwood always brought her right back to warm summer days in kaa-san's bedroom, and she liked to think, that smelling like her made her more womanly.

She fiddled with the delicate bracelet on her pale wrist; the twin of the one Serena wore. They were made of white silver and diamonds; gifts from jiji the year when Sakura turned five. Her eyes searched the room, hoping to catch glimpse of a free table. Instead, she caught sight of pale red chiffon and familiar opaline eyes. The poor girl looked strangely befuddled where she was pressed up against one of the metal pillars carrying the weight of the lounges above upon its back.

She called her name over the roar of the music.

"Hinata!"

At Sakura's call she snapped to attention, and scurried across the dancing floor towards them, gaze flickering back and forth as though she expected someone to jump her.

_Maybe Kiba_, Sakura thought, inwardly snorting at the thought of that doggy-loving playboy. He had always had a strange, slightly creepy fascination for the Hyuuga heiress, often making his attraction known when he'd downed three glasses of liquid courage. Of course, Hinata only had eyes for the blonde, blue-eyed knucklehead with an inexplicable love for orange, always awkwardly turning dog-boy down. Too bad rejection was wired wrong in his head, making him even more determined to catch her attention. He was just as thick as Naruto was, and Sakura would bet her monthly allowance on that he was at it again.

"H-hey, guys!" she greeted them, trying, and failing, to smile convincingly. Sakura and Ino shared a look, silently asking each other if they should corner dog-boy in the bathroom corridor and pound some sense into that peanut-sized brain of his.

She looked pretty in a one-shouldered, Grecian dress, although Ino thought the hemline was way too modest for a nightclub.

"Hey, honey," the blonde fashionista greeted her, throwing her arms wide open to drag the skittish Hyuuga into her embrace. Already having downed three drinks before Serena picked her up, she was becoming very _cozy_.

"How was the _ride_?"

She winked at the blushing girl, clearly hinting at the blonde idiot she was pining after. Hinata made to answer, stammering something along the lines of _'F-fine'_, although it was difficult to discern over the loud music. Ino thankfully left it at that, for Hinata did not wish to tell about her positively traumatizing experience. As if it wasn't bad enough that Naruto-kun, whom she had been seated next to in the large SUV, had thought she needed to go to the ER because she was blushing, she had also been witness to the weirdest argument in history. Not for the first time she wondered what connection there was between a school paper, premature births and cherry blossoms, and silently contemplated if she should give Neji the number to her psychiatrist.

_Seriously. _

"W-why are you standing here?" the Hyuuga inquired, attempting to forget.

"We can't find a table," Tenten muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling in irritation. "I knew we should've gotten here sooner".

At the last part she threw Ino an ugly look. The blonde was quick to jump to her own defense.

"It's not my fault, Tenten!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Look, let's spread out and see if we see something that's free".

Though Tenten continued to mutter some rather nasty words under her breath, she didn't have anything better to suggest, and reluctantly moved in the direction of the dance floor.

Across from they were, three boys were reclining in one of the booths, busy glowering at Sasuke Uchiha's back. Said Uchiha was currently occupying the bar in the company of Karin, likely arranging his booty call for later. Naruto, Shikamaru and Neji were certainly not impressed with the way he was ignoring them.

"He really needs to get that stick out of his ass," Naruto muttered, scowling darkly as he downed the glass of bourbon he'd managed to flirt his way to at the bar.

His companions gave mumbled replies, something akin to agreement.

Their disagreement had started on the way from the Hyuuga Compound, where they had picked up Neji and his cousin Hinata. The girl was quite something else, turning so red where she was sandwiched between Shikamaru and Naruto in the back that they wondered if she had to go to the hospital. But the attention had quickly been drawn to Sasuke and Neji. Neji, of course, had been quick to voice his displeasure at Sasuke's _premature_ start of their investigation, sparking a heated argument between the four boys, in coded messages that left Hinata staring at them as though they had sprouted birds from their ears and were changing skin color. By the time they had parked Sasuke's _borrowed_ SUV a couple of blocks down the street from Taka Nomiya, the poor girl had looked ready to bolt and ditch them where they were still arguing, but Neji's tight grip on her wrist prevented her from doing so.

Which of course led Naruto to accusing him of abuse, promptly earning him smack on the head – and sparking a new argument. The only thing preventing a full-blown fist fight was Shikamaru, who suffering from a severe headache had lost his temper and frightened the three others into silence _(and nearly caused Hinata to faint, but that was a different matter). _Naturally, that had caused awkwardness, and understandably Hinata had run off the moment they had entered, likely thinking them all to be psychotic, rambling idiots. And somewhere between entering the club and frightening two frat boys from the University to give up their booth, Sasuke had been given the blame for the whole ordeal.

And Sasuke of course, hadn't been very happy about that.

Neji sighed, averting his gaze from where he had been carving patterns into the Uchiha's back, keen eyes searching the crowds for something more interesting. By chance, he caught sight of blonde locks and a flirtatious smile that was infamous at St. Konoha. And suddenly, a light bulb went on in his head.

"Hey," Neji nudged Shikamaru's shoulder, dragging him out of his brooding thoughts. He pointed at the blonde, leaning over a table some yards away, talking to a group of frat boys eagerly eyeing her cleavage. Shikamaru's dark gaze followed, visibly narrowing upon the sight of the girl.

"That's Yamanaka," Neji informed him.

Shikamaru barely kept from snorting.

_Like she needed an introduction._

He quirked an eyebrow at the Hyuuga, clearly not moved by the news.

"So?" he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally as he leaned further back into the leather seat, pointedly keeping his gaze from venturing back towards the pretty blonde.

"Call her over," Neji urged him.

"Why?" he drawled, eyeing him warily.

"Sasuke needs a proper introduction right?"

Involuntarily his eyes drifted back towards the blonde. Since Sasuke wasn't exactly on good terms with Tenten, and Hinata was _(understandably)_ avoiding them, Ino would be the best way to approach Sakura. To approach her directly would be a dead give-away, and since Sakura was far from stupid, judging by the grades he managed to extract from the school database, she was likely to get suspicious - even if she was infatuated with the Uchiha.

So, yes, approaching Ino was a good move. Too bad she was the last girl Shikamaru wanted to deal with right now.

Or any time, really.

"Call her over," Neji repeated, a little more forceful.

"I'm not calling her over".

"Why not?" Neji pressed; irritated that he wouldn't do as he wanted. "You used to be friends".

Shikamaru scowled.

That was something he _did not_ need to be reminded of.

"In elementary school!" he argued, glaring defiantly at the Hyuuga. Said Hyuuga responded by giving him a withering look.

"_Call_ her".

"She's turning away!"

It was surprisingly Naruto who had taken action, rising from his seat.

"Oi! Yamanaka!" he hollered, waving his hands over his head, effectively catching the attention of the socialite. Her eyebrows arched in surprise when she realized which table the call had come from. Slowly she approached them, assessing the three boys with sharp, pretty eyes.

"You need something?" she inquired nonchalantly, eyebrow quirked as she leaned herself against the polished surface. Almost instinctively their eyes landed on her cleavage, a quite prominent feature in the red bandage dress she was currently wearing. Clearly she wasn't impressed by their glances, eyes slimming a fraction in warning.

"We noticed your group without a table," Neji inserted smoothly, withdrawing his gaze from her chest to look her straight in the eye. He indicated in the general direction of her girls with his hand.

"_Really_?" The word left her mouth as a dubious question, causing the Hyuuga to think he might have underestimated her.

"You noticed _us_?" Her red lips twitched slightly. "The wallflowers?" Her eyes darted momentarily to Shikamaru, and then back to him.

Neji leaned over the table, smirking, and she did the same. "You, Yamanaka", he drawled, eyes skimming her form suggestively, "are certainly not a wallflower".

Her lips curled into a smile that was neither sharp nor genuine, as she straightened up.

"Smooth, Hyuuga," she told him, certainly not charmed. But her gaze searched the premises for a better option, and came up with nothing. "I'll check if they want to sit with you". She pushed herself away from the table, but paused, smiling sharply.

"If you're up to something, I'll _eat you alive_".

With that sweet warning hanging in the air she turned and sauntered off towards her friends. Naruto gulped, slightly pale.

"She's one _scary_ woman".

Shikamaru grunted, crossing his arms and bearing the appearance of an insulted child. Neji threw him a suspicious look.

"What are you scowling about?"

Shikamaru's scowl deepened in response.

The look he was given told him that Neji was far from impressed. He eyed him suspiciously, contemplating whether or not to have him thrown from the table if he continued acting like a petulant child. What the fuck would the point be of enlisting the help of Ino Yamanaka if Nara scared the girls away?

"Don't blow this," he warned.

There was a spark of defiance in Shikamaru's gaze that took the Hyuuga by surprise.

"I'm not the one you should be concerned with," the lazy ass countered smartly.

"Sasuke?" Neji inquired, though it was fairly obvious who Shikamaru was referring to.

"He hasn't exactly been very…" Shikamaru paused, trying to find a proper word for his friend's treatment of girls, "…_charming_, since Kohana left".

The air between the three tensed, as it always did at the mention of _her_.

Naruto picked at his sleeve, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like the sudden change of subject, although, he supposed, rubbing the back of his neck, Shikamaru did have a point. Sasuke hadn't been treating any girl right since _her_ betrayal, but none of them ever complained.

He didn't get girls, really. They all fawned over his friend as though he was a god, even when he was treating them like dirt beneath his shoe. It wasn't fair to them, and, he felt a familiar trickle of jealousy with that thought, it was unfair that he would always be the one they'd notice.

Neji's mouth tightened at Shikamaru's words, and he realized with dread that perhaps he had been a _little_ too quick in his decision of pushing forward an introduction.

Oh, fuck, who was he kidding?

If Sasuke shoved a foot down his throat by being his normal, un-_charming_ self, that'd be the end of it. If Haruno didn't storm off, Yamanaka or, worse, _Tenten_, would certainly jump in her defense. At least, that was what they normally did.

But it was a little too late to make a retreat now without coming off looking like complete dickheads. Which would make it even harder to make a second attempt later. He just had to hope that Sasuke wouldn't instinctively compare Sakura Haruno with Kohana Hoshi and end up doing what he did with all girls.

* * *

><p>The girls were in the process of giving up ever sitting down when Ino came sashaying through the crowd, looking quite pleased with herself. <em>Of course<em>, she'd get them a table, Sakura thought, inwardly rolling her eyes. With those _feminine wiles_ she claimed to possess.

"Hey! I found us a table," she announced, though they already knew that. And felt if just a bit envious of Ino's seemingly effortless ability to get her way with everything.

"Great," Sakura exclaimed, trying to appear nonchalant. "Where?"

Ino paused, smiling secretively. Then:

"Sasuke Uchiha's table".

Had Sakura been beneath her dignity, her jaw would have hit the floor. Instead she stared blankly at her grinning friend, her mind coming to a screeching halt.

_Say _what_? _

"_No_". Tenten shook her head, a look of utter horror on her face. "Forget it!"

Ino rolled her eyes at the brunette, sighing in irritation.

"Tenten," she sighed in irritation, placing her hands on her hips in a manner of a parent scolding a child. "We need someplace to sit".

"I'm not sitting with Neji fucking Hyuuga!" Tenten crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her lower lip out defiantly, though her eyes expressed terror. She would _die_ if she had to come face to face with that bastard so soon. Images of that night flashed in front of her and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Why did Ino have to get them seats at _that_ table?

Ino scoffed and directed her attention to Sakura, smiling sweetly.

"_Sakura_", the pinkette was snapped from her daze at the call, meeting Ino's gaze. "Your call".

For a moment she wasn't quite sure what Ino wanted her to decide, still caught up in her previous phrase of '_Sasuke Uchiha's table'_.

"What?"

"Since Miss Difficult over here," Ino threw the brunette a dirty look, "you make the call. Uchiha's table or sitting on the floor?"

Sakura's eyes darted between Ino's expectant look and Tenten's shaking head. She felt bad for the brunette, who had drunkenly confessed smooching with Neji Hyuuga at her sister's engagement party, but a more selfish part of her wanted to sit at Sasuke's table. It would be her _chance_.

Her chance to speak with the unattainable, unapproachable Sasuke Uchiha.

"It's the best offer," she concluded, inwardly flinching at the way Tenten's face fell. The look of utter betrayal in her hazel gaze. She was almost tempted to go back on her word, and sought Hinata for assurance.

"Right, Hinata-chan?" she chimed, nudging at Hinata's arm. But the girl was unresponsive; cheeks flushed red as she fidgeted with her hands, bearing an expression of anxiousness.

"Hinata?" she asked, meekly, wondering if perhaps this wasn't such a great idea after all.

"Great! Let's go!" As if sensing the planning of retreat Ino beamed, linking arms with Sakura and Hinata, guiding them forwards.

"I need a drink before I sit down," Tenten called behind them. Ino paused, forcing the two others to an abrupt halt. The blonde turned her head to look at the brunette, angry and anxious, her stubborn chin tipped upward in a show of defiance. They locked gazes, and then, Ino shrugged, indifferent.

"Be my guest".

Not waiting for a response she nudged her girlfriends into motion, noting with displeasure that their steps were becoming slower, more reluctant.

Sakura was having more than just second thoughts about this. It became awfully clear with each step she took that she was not at all prepared for this. What was she supposed to say? What if he didn't like her? What if he…

'**Stop it'** a voice ordered, scowling. **'He took the first step, didn't he?'**

Immediately the memory of the almost-forgotten friend request resurfaced, and her heart beat faster. A small hope ignited, but her doubts, the insecurities of what she would do when actually meeting face to face with the boy she had crushed on since third grade, almost smothered it. The panic rose and her heart beat faster, and she was sorely tempted to make up an excuse about going to the bathroom just to hold off the introduction until she had gathered enough sense to know how to spell hello.

But Ino (that evil, _evil_ bitch) tightened her hold on her arm, scraping pretty, crimson nails against her skin in warning, telling her that she was not above digging her claws into her arm to keep her from running away. Communicated something along the lines of '_this is your big chance – don't screw it'_, as their intended came into view.

It was a relief to see him absent from the table. His closest friends occupied the booth, familiar, arrogant faces that almost got as much attention from the female population as the Uchiha himself. Neji, a year older than them, and Tenten's tormentor since forever, was handsome, though in a way that made him even more unapproachable than Sasuke-kun. Hinata always said he wasn't as cold as he appeared, but to Sakura, he was as rigid and stoic like a statue.

Shikamaru Nara was likely the laziest individual at St. Konoha, and certainly not the type to get himself involved with girls, as he deemed it too troublesome. He wasn't handsome in the manner of Neji and Sasuke, easily overshadowed by their chiseled faces and confident smirks. But there was something about his eyes, exotically slanted and dark, almost always half-lidded and making him look deceptively uninterested, that made you want him to look and catch interest. She'd seen it intense once, when scaring off a group of seniors Naruto Namikaze had been stupid enough to challenge at the end of their freshman year. Dark, smoldering; a clear warning of the misery they'd experience if they didn't stop beating his friend, though the rest of his composure was laidback and relaxed.

Naruto was Sasuke's undisputedly closest companion, having known each other since their diaper days. He too was handsome, with sun-tanned skin and a mop of golden, unruly locks. Smiling blue eyes akin to Ino's, possessing a cheery, albeit dimwit demeanor, and odd whisker marks slashing his otherwise unmarred skin. He donned not only a red shirt – but red pants, making him look ridiculous, and serving only to highlight his role as the school's clown.

Why so many girls liked him was a mystery to her.

"H-hey, Sakura-chan!" he greeted her, tan cheeks stained red as he waved and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm Naruto Namikaze!"

'**As if he needs an introduction**' that voice whispered, rolling its figurative eyes. The blonde knucklehead had been the center of attention since elementary school – and not necessarily in a good way. Ever since his mother died when he was eight, he had been acting out, doing anything and everything to be noticed.

"Hey, Naruto," she greeted back, waving her hand awkwardly, while practically _feeling_ Hinata's disappointment roll off of her in waves. Ino would have scoffed at her and told her to stop being such a wallflower, but Sakura understood that some people simply didn't have the courage to put themselves out there like Ino could. She herself had got burnt once before, and she wasn't intending to do it again. There simply wasn't enough heart to handle another break.

_And yet_, she accepted _his_ friend request.

"Hey, Hinata-chan!" Naruto greeted her, catching all three girls by surprise. It had been their conclusion that with his Sakura-goggles on he wouldn't even think to notice the rest of them. Hinata, taken aback, flustered at his greeting, more blood rushing to her cheeks as her hands twitched compulsively.

"H-h-hey, N-Naruto-k-kun," she stuttered forward in greeting, silently despairing at her own awkwardness, the rising color on her face. He frowned, eyebrows knitting together.

"Are you alright, Hinata?" he asked, placing a warm palm against her red forehead. Her eyes widened like saucers when his skin came in contact with her, all the blood in her body rushing to her head. "You look like you have a fever".

Sakura saw the muscles in Hinata's neck go taut, and the tell-tale sway of her body that told her she was close to fainting.

"Oh, she's fine," she assured with a laugh, grabbing Hinata's arm and guiding her to sit down, effectively removing her from Naruto's outstretched hand. Naruto hesitated, but bedazzled by the smile Sakura threw him said nothing further, seating himself beside the dazed girl. Squished between Shikamaru and the knucklehead Hinata quickly woke, a sense of déjà vu making her feel _very_ awkward. Ino slid into the seat at Shikamaru's left, and Sakura on the couch opposite, which only Neji reclined in.

"Thank you for sharing your booth with us," Sakura thanked them, smiling. But she only received mumbled replies and a rather sharp laugh from Naruto, earning him a kick from Shikamaru.

"_My_, we are talkative," Ino said, eyes slim with suspicion. Shikamaru muttered inaudibly, crossing his arms over his chest, though Sakura was fairly certain it went along the lines of '_troublesome'_.

"Had a nice holiday?" Sakura continued, needing for something to take off the edge of this awkwardness. Hinata was pale as a ghost, and Ino's searching eyes were making the boys go tense. And what was up with Naruto?

The boy was flushed red, nervously fiddling with his mojito. His normally boisterous behavior was reduced to something that could easily be compared to Hinata. But upon her question he made another sharp laugh.

Something was definitively _not_ right here.

That, or these guys were weirder in person than she originally thought.

"The best!" Naruto exclaimed loudly. "Me and Ero-Sennin went to the Grand Resort Lagonissi! That's in Athens".

"No way!" Ino exclaimed, leaning against the table to get a better look at the blonde. "Did you stay at the Royal Villa?" She was always updated on the best resorts, and the Royal Villa at Lagonissi was one of her favorites. She had spent the summer prior enjoying the luxury perched on the beaches of Athens, with all its fine qualities, and of course, it's fine boys.

"Hai!" he nodded, smiling widely as he recalled the luxurious villa. He and Ero-Sennin, most commonly known as Jiraiya Sannin to others, had spent two weeks being pampered by their own butler, four-star chef, and of all things, a pianist. A cute one at that, though she was too busy with Ero-Sennin to notice him.

"Lucky you," Ino sighed longingly. "I was there last year. Wasn't your father with you?"

Naruto's smile fell, until that shiny grin that hid his true feelings appeared.

"No, he had to work," the boy laughed it off, rubbing the back of his red neck. "But we went sailing outside Hiroshima two weeks ago," he quickly added at the guilty look on Ino's face.

"So, Shikamaru," Sakura spoke up, catching the fleeting attention of the Nara boy. "I heard you went to Sunagakure". Sunagakure was a city at the westernmost point of Honshū, by the sea. It resided on perhaps the only patch of land in Japan that could be compared to a desert, and was a popular city for summer tourists, with beach resorts, mega-yachts and nightclubs. Sakura had been there once when she was fourteen; visiting with Ino and her housekeeper Kiki _(her parents had conveniently been indisposed)_.

The boy momentarily stiffened at the mention, and then forced his limbs to loosen up. He sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, with kaa-san," he finally answered.

"Where did you stay?" Ino inquired, curiosity peaked. "I and Sakura were there two years ago," she elaborated at the look the Nara boy gave her. "Was it the Imperial Hotel?"

"No," Shikamaru shook his head, feeling awkward. Hesitated, but at the expectant looks of Sakura and Ino felt compelled to answer. "The Kazekage's Residence".

Sakura's eyes went wide with surprise. Ino's jaw slackened.

The Yondaime Kazekage was a notorious character amongst the habitants of Konoha. Konoha and Suna had always had an unstable relationship, particularly after Konoha became a leading city for economy and trade, causing Suna to lose a large amount of clients. He was a hard man, on uneasy terms with the Hokage, past and present, but also known to be an extremely influential individual. But that he would welcome the state's attorney's family to his home?

That was new.

"The _Yondaime_ Kazekage's home?" Ino sputtered, incredulous.

Shikamaru threw her a dark look.

"_Yes_. It was no big deal".

"No big deal? Yeah, right…"

"Anyway, Ino, do you think you can do some magic with a waiter?" Sakura cut in, an underlying threat to her sweet tone. Ino gave her a look, but smiled syrupy sweet.

"Of course".

"Hey, Sasuke!" Naruto suddenly exclaimed, waving his hand at an approaching figure. Sakura went rigid, looking much like a deer caught in the headlights. Her heart skipped a beat and her hands felt like ice. Slowly, she turned her head, and very nearly turned into a puddle.

He was _gorgeous_.

No, that was a too feminine term. Handsome didn't cut it either.

He was something dark, and dangerous, and _sexy_.

High slashing cheekbones, that strong, pointed chin, and dangerous black eyes you could drown yourself in. His sculpted mouth was set firmly, black locks suitably disheveled, as though he had just rolled out of bed. Sex hair, someone had giggled once. And his body…

She clamped down on the impulse of giving him a once-over. But she could clearly imagine the leanly muscled form underneath his clothes, had seen it over the edge of the book she pretended to read in the school courtyard during lacrosse practice. Broad shoulders, strong arms, sculpted abs and a trim waist. The heat on her cheeks rose to her hair roots, and she swallowed convulsively.

She was so _not_ prepared for this.

"We've got new seating buddies!" Naruto continued, indicating at the girls with a sweeping movement of his hand.

Sasuke quirked a brow at the blonde before sweeping his gaze over the newcomers, pausing when they met wide, green eyes. He had not anticipating _her_to be their seating buddy. Unnoticed by Sakura, he looked sharply at Neji, though Ino caught the look, and frowned.

Sakura swore her heart stopped when the handsome boy zeroed in on her, quickly feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. It was surreal. Only once had she been this close to him, and that was when he had turned her down in sixth grade.

This was just too…_bizarre_.

But she couldn't help but stare wide-eyed, heart beating erratically. He was _looking_ at _her_.

A sharp pain in her shin jolted her from her stupor, her rapidly slimming gaze seeking Ino's innocent expression across the table. The blonde smiled sweetly, shrugging her slim shoulders in a nonchalant manner. Though irritated, the pinkette couldn't help but feel slightly grateful as she directed her gaze back to the Uchiha. Their eyes met again, briefly.

"H-hey!" she greeted, laughing awkwardly as she waved her hand at him, while her other mind proceeded to bang her head against the wall, wondering how the hell she could be so fucking moronic.

"Hn," he grumbled, dismissing her.

Sakura had expected that.

Then he casually seated himself on the couch next to Sakura.

_That_ she did not see coming.

She blushed even more, catching the smell of his cologne (herbs and pine and musk) as he leaned back in the soft, black leather. Her Inner swooned, sniffed the air and squealed delightedly.

_Sasuke is sitting next to me! Sasuke is sitting next to me! _

Not for the first time she wondered whether or not she'd stumbled upon an alternative universe. Where her galaxy crashed with Sasuke's, and lightning struck twice, because this was definitely _not_ normal. Her Inner dismissed her thoughts with a nonchalant brush of her hand, claiming that such thoughts weren't doing her any good. To which Sakura wondered if she somehow could buy a new brain, as her figurative other cooed at Sasuke's profile, all glittering eyes and goofy smiles.

Ridiculous.

Utterly ridiculous.

"_Sakura_!"

She was snapped from her mental rant at Ino's inquiring stare.

"What?" she asked, befuddled and painfully aware of everyone's eyes on her. Her cheeks flushed red once more. How long was she gone again?

"I asked if you want a mojito. Koichi here," she patted the clearly charmed waiter standing beside her, "says we're legal".

"Yes!" Inwardly wincing at her own volume, she plastered on a smile, nodding her head. Blood rushed to her head. Kami, she must resemble Hinata by now. "Daiquiri, yes! Sorry".

Her Inner smacked her forehead in exasperation. She silently prayed that she could get through this without coming off looking utterly moronic. There was an awkward silence as they glanced at each other, too nervous or too bloody nonchalant to be bothered with conversation. Sakura chanced a glance at Sasuke, who was nursing a glass of scotch he had obtained in the bar (how sixteen year old boys managed to do that was beyond her).

"So, ready to be sophomores?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Hell yeah!" Naruto exclaimed, slapping his martini down on the table with a whiskered grin. "Can't wait to be the youngest anymore!"

"Can't wait to _not_ be the youngest," Sasuke corrected him over the rim of his glass, causing the girls to giggle. Naruto flushed red, and glared at his friend across the table before laughing his misstep off.

"Heh. You forgot '_anymore'_ at the end!" he cackled, something akin to a triumphant grin on his face. Shikamaru barely kept from groaning out loud. Leave it to Naruto to spark off an argument about word like '_not'_ and '_anymore'_.

Sasuke rolled his eyes at Naruto's cackle.

"Dobe".

Naruto's cackle died down and he glared at him.

"Teme!"

Sasuke simply stared at him, bored.

"Dobe".

"H-how was your holiday, Sasuke?" Sakura timidly asked, barely keeping from uttering the suffix –_kun_, at the end of her sentence. He turned his head to look at her smiling face, and felt that fucking stomach ache resurface.

Sakura watched him in anticipation, thinking, hoping, that he might give her an answer.

"Hn".

Her Inner's head dropped. Her own smile tightened.

She yelped, jumping from her seat as she received a kick to her knee that certainly wasn't meant for her. Neji mentally smacked himself for his miscalculation, and muttered a '_sorry'_ at the now glaring pinkette.

"What was that for?" she demanded to know, rubbing the sore skin with a scowl on her face. That kick was sure to leave a bruise!

Neji blinked.

"My foot slipped".

Sakura might have pummeled him for such a lame excuse hadn't he been Neji Hyuuga and Sasuke Uchiha was sitting right _next to her_.

"Your foot _slipped_?"

Shikamaru sunk farther into his seat, rubbing a hand against his forehead in exasperation.

_This_. Was. Going. To. Hell.

And they were only on the _second_ day.

"It was probably an accident," Ino butted in, trying to diffuse her friend's temper with a dismissive wave of her hand and a small, pealing laugh. Made a small jerk with her head at the Uchiha, reminding her friend to keep her cool. Sakura quieted down, daring a glance at Sasuke, who was occupied in some odd staring competition with Neji over her head.

That was...weird.

Were they always this…_sociable_?

She shared a glance with Hinata, who, the poor girl, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable between a nervously laughing Naruto and a…was it just her or did Shikamaru look close to banging his head against the table?

Maybe sitting here wasn't such a great idea. Judging by Ino's expression, she thought the same.

"This is awkward".

She hadn't meant to say it out loud. But somewhere in her mental rant her tongue had started forming the words. The boys stiffened, becoming increasingly aware of the looks they were given, ranging from concern for their mental health to right-out suspicion.

"Oh, sorry about that!" Naruto exclaimed. "We're just kidding, right Shikamaru?" He leaned over Hinata to smack Shikamaru's back in a friendly manner, only to miss and smack his head instead. The dark haired boy muttered a curse as his hands flew to his head to prevent another attack.

"Yeah. Right. _Kidding_".

They received no support from the other two members of the group.

Sakura and Ino looked at each other across the table.

"Maybe we should find another table," they spoke simultaneously, nodding their heads eagerly. Picked for their handbags and prepared to flee.

"No!" Naruto flew from the table, shaking his head. "No, don't leave," he begged them, calmer. "We'll stop now_, right guys_". His normally sparkling blue eyes were slim and dark as he glared at Neji and Sasuke.

"Yeah, we'll stop," Neji spoke up when Ino abruptly rose, waving his hand dismissively.

"_Right,"_ Ino drawled, not convinced. But once more finding no better option, she sat down and folded her hands under her chin. "So", she said, directing her gaze to Neji, "are you planning to become captain of the lacrosse team this year, or are you aiming as high as swimming captain?"

St. Konoha's swimming team was among the best in the region. Only the best boy and girl earned the title of captain. Two years in a row, Neji had lost to the older talents.

"_Both_," was his arrogant reply.

"And what about you, Sasuke-kun?" Sakura inquired to the young Uchiha. He met her curious gaze, frowning slightly at her use of suffix. No one called him Sasuke-kun aside from his kaa-san. The foolish girls he slept with quickly learned not to use it. Strangely enough he didn't have the urge to bite her off.

But the stomach ache worsened.

What the _fuck_ was wrong with him?

"Lacrosse," was his succinct response, and he threw a challenging look at Neji before downing the rest of his scotch.

"Great! I think you're a great player".

...that didn't sound right.

Her Inner covered her face with her hands, crying.

Sasuke gave her an odd look. And then:

"I'm getting a drink".

She barely refrained from banging her head against the table as Sasuke, quickly followed by Neji, left the booth.

_That, _she thought miserably_,_ didn't go well.

* * *

><p>Itachi had the sneaking suspicion that he would regret coming here.<p>

It was a talent he had earned in his years as a businessman to detect the carefully concealed traces of deception in a merger or a business deal, the subtle coercion in a tycoon's words. He had learned from watching how the London Scandal had left Tatsu Corporation's hard-earned reputation in tatters ten years ago, just how dire the consequences could be if he was too trustworthy. Even more so from his years spent in New York. And his instincts told him that there was something deceptive in the way Konan had called and nonchalantly demanded him to make his appearance at the club.

He slowly maneuvered the polished marble floor, carefully avoiding the seductive brushes of female hands and intoxicated patrons stumbling about, his obsidian gaze searching the sea of crimson for familiar faces. The music was pumping through the enormous loudspeakers, swallowing the sounds of chatter and drunken outbursts and the clinking of crystal, almost like being caught within a pulsating bubble. It felt claustrophobic, further intensified by the heat emitting from the some hundred guests and the reek of alcoholic beverages spilled on the floor.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He had never been fond of this place.

And yet he chose the blasting music and overwhelming amounts of alcohol over attending Mira Himoto's dinner party along with Sayuri. Although he had nothing against his future in-laws, despite Mira's overbearing behavior and the Ambassador's silent disagreement with the upcoming wedding, he found these get-togethers of theirs to be tedious and rather forced. It would be particularly so in the wake of yesterday's incident at the graveyard.

His fiancée had not dared argue with him when he cancelled his dinner plans with her, as her indiscretion after the memorial service had left her on dangerously thin ice. Sayuri never did know when to keep silent, and had successfully provoked him when she brought up Serena Haruno when they were in the privacy of his apartment. It was a subject both were comfortable avoiding, however, when Sayuri's jealousy reared its ugly head she was quick to spew accusations she later _(too late)_ came to regret. He had yet to put an end to her misery by forgiving her last accusation, finding it easy to keep her in check when she was tormented by her own guilt. Perhaps it was cruel of him, but sometimes he simply could not find it in him to care enough.

And, if he was honest, sometimes, like now, she deserved a little harsh treatment. Marriage was not a dance on roses, and he knew he would not have the patience to tolerate her behavior if it was to continue in the long run. If they were to marry in December, she would have to learn that throwing his past in his face as though it was all a grave mistake, particularly in regards to the eldest Haruno sister, was something he would not stand for.

Regardless of whatever future they may have, Serena had never, and never would be, a mistake.

He noticed the slight shift in the air before a burly arm was slung over his shoulders. The blue-tinted skin and purple nail polish he could see from the corner of his eye was all he needed to know that Kisame Hoshigaki was making his presence known.

"Long time no see, eh Itachi?" the distinctively shark-like giant boomed above him, a smile baring his sharp, triangular-shaped teeth. He was dressed in a white shirt and jeans, having shed his police uniform for the night. Of course it was like him to oppose dress codes, particularly the ones Konan came up with. He always loved riling up Lady Blue when he got the chance.

Itachi quirked a slim, dark eyebrow at him, lips twitching slightly at the sight of his former companion.

"Kisame," he drawled in greeting. Kisame was not deterred by the cool reply, used to his dismissive behavior. He retrieved his arm and took a deep swallow of the beer in his other hand, studying his former mate through lowered lashes.

He seemed wearier than he had been four months ago, he thought, when he had seen him last. He'd taken one of his rare trips to the police department in search of his uncle, solemnly announcing his engagement to Sayuri Himoto.

The tear troughs beneath his dark, weary eyes had deepened, often a sign of stress or grievance, which he suspected was the result of that infernal fiancée of his.

Why Itachi was able to tolerate that little vicious cobra was beyond him, but then again, it was beyond Itachi why he had chosen to work for his uncle. They had been two peas in a pod once, when their lives consisted of beer and school and Akatsuki. But then Itachi had left, and Kisame had chosen the badge, and in many's opinion chosen Madara Uchiha over his best friend. Though that was something Kisame fervently denied, it had in truth driven a wedge between them. A wedge he didn't quite know how to fix.

And criticizing his choice of wife was something he was no longer entitled to do.

"Was beginning to think you'd never show," the shark-like man continued in a drawl, lips quirking. "Worried Lady Blue is up to something again?"

Itachi gave a monosyllabic reply, barely audible over the blare of the music, but the way his eyes searched the crowd with the slight crease of suspicion on his forehead confirmed it. It was rare for Konan to bring the gang together, usually leaving the reins to Pain and the boys, but when she did, she usually was up to something.

Like stripping and auctioning them off to rabid girls, and other uncomfortable little events that left them traumatized for months.

"There's…"

He was rudely interrupted when a slick olive bounced off his forehead. His small, white eyes slimmed as he lifted his head at where the offending object had come from, finding Hidan and Deidara lazily leaning over the metal railing above, smirking. They bore equal expressions of mischief, Hidan twirling another olive between his fingers, clearly pointing himself out as the culprit. Itachi followed his line of vision, not at all surprised to see the two most childish members of their former group waiting for them.

Hidan was tall and slender, with sinewy muscles shifting beneath the scarlet shirt he was currently donning. His silver hair was sleeked back, complimenting his pale complexion and the devil-may-care grin. Deidara could easily have been mistaken for a girl with his waist-length blonde tresses, partly obscuring his face from view, hadn't it been for his chest and abs were in full view for all to see through his unbuttoned burgundy shirt.

"About time!" Hidan called over the pounding music, smirk widening. "Get the fuck up here!"

The two men did not bother arguing, slowly treading through the crowd towards the winding staircase in companionable silence.

The gang was seated in their usual lounge, placed on the far wall, giving the best view of the club beneath. They reclined in black leather couches around a polished oak table, beers and martinis and a bottle of tequila with a cheery red sombrero hat cork, perched on top of it. Hidan and Deidara greeted them loudly, raising shot glasses upon their arrival and pounding their palms against the table.

Sasori, the redheaded member of the group gave a more dignified greeting - an acknowledgeable nod. He was seated next to Pain, arms crossed over his chest with a slight quirk to his narrow lips. He wore a shirt nearly matching his hair color.

And Pain, their undisputed leader, donning a t-shirt that clashed awfully with his hair and made him _'look like a sunset'_ according to Deidara, didn't greet them all. Purple gaze met his black one, the only need of acknowledgement between the two decidedly quietest men of the lot. Kisame squeezed himself in between Sasori and Deidara, nearly sending them both to the floor with his broad frame.

"Were the fuck've you been?" the silver-haired male demanded, smacking Itachi's back roughly as he seated himself to his left. The dark-haired Uchiha shot him a look of warning, before he accepted the tequila shot Sasori sent across the polished surface. "Were beginning to think that _lovely_ cobra of yours had strangled you in your sleep".

Deidara and Kisame snickered at the little joke. They had never been fond of Sayuri Himoto, the uptight, snotty diplomat's daughter who had an unhealthily clingy behavior towards the brooding Uchiha – hence the fitting nickname. But the look Hidan received told him that Itachi was not finding it at all amusing. In fact, had Hidan been any less of a man, he might have cowered in the corner under the deathly stare he was receiving. However, the Jashin-worshipping martial arts artist had skin tougher than steel, and a head thicker than most.

"Don't give me that fuckin' look, Uchiha," he pointed a threatening finger at Itachi as he downed his tequila shot. "It's just a fuckin' joke".

"Keep them to yourself, Hidan," Itachi responded calmly, lifting his own shot glass to his lips. He met his gaze from the corner of his eye. "If you value your tongue".

Hidan wisely left it at that, instead stealing Kisame's tequila shot and downing that too, causing the towering man to glower and look infinitely more predatory. He was quickly appeased however when Sasori pushed another glass towards him, and he leaned back against the leather couch, turning his head towards Pain.

"Where's Lady Blue?" he inquired, downing the strong liquid in one gulp.

"She'll make her appearance soon," their leader responded in a light drawl, crossing his arms over his chest. He did not look at all happy, a slight downward tilt to his firm mouth. Itachi regarded him through lowered lashes as he swallowed another shot, instinct telling him that he was certainly going to regret coming here.

And Konan was definitely up to something.

"What's her scheme?" Hidan demanded to know, slamming his glass down on the table, causing every object on the surface to rattle dangerously. He stared at Pain with furrowed brows. "Draggin' us out here?"

"Am I always scheming, Hidan?" a sweet, feminine voice inquired. Everyone's heads turned towards the entrance. Konan stood poised in the opening, a hand on her hip as she regarded the silver-haired male with a quirked eyebrow.

"Mention one time when you haven't," Hidan challenged, pale cheeks tinted red with the alcohol he had consumed. He pointed an unsteady finger at her, leaning his elbows on the table.

Konan's glossy lips curled into a smile, a little too syrupy sweet for anyone's comfort.

"Got me there," she responded, waving her hand dismissively. "And yes, there's an ulterior motif to this get-together".

All the males save Pain tensed, some exchanging helpless or nervous glances.

"One I think you'll actually like".

Konan turned sideways towards the corridor, beckoning someone forward with her hand. The men waited in anticipation for said someone to step forward. Tentatively, a face peaked inside, casting light over a small nose, gently sweeping cheekbones, Cupid's bow lips and hooded green eyes, framed by cascades of raven hair.

Several jaws hit the floor.

With an uneasy smile on her lips Serena entered the lounge, a vision in red silk and pretty green eyes. Her smile widened slightly as her gaze swept over the assembly, only to falter completely when her eyes met burning agates. She threw a look at Konan that clearly spelled something along the lines of '_traitor'_, but it went unnoticed as the members of Akatsuki scrambled to their feet in an attempt to take hold of her first.

Deidara might have reached her first hadn't Kisame plowed him to the ground, stepping over him as he shouldered Hidan out of the way. The blue giant wound his arms tightly around her trim waist and lifted her off the floor as he pulled her into a bone-breaking hug. The air boomed with his laughter and the lighter squeal of the small woman in his arms as he twirled her, sending her heel-clad feet in Deidara's face.

The blonde made a pained cry as it connected with his cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground once more.

"Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" Kisame rumbled, carefully setting her back down on her feet. The smile she gave was a genuine one, and she shook her head mirthfully.

"And you are the same as always, Kisame," she retorted, patting his arm.

Hidan was next to tackle her, quickly followed by a bruised Deidara, landing her sandwiched between the two thickheaded males. Sasori had slowly risen to his feet, likely waiting for the idiots to settle before giving a dignified greeting. And while this occurred, Itachi watched, caught in a sense of nostalgia upon seeing her dimpled smile; something he had always associated with happiness and sunshine.

Something that had always been directed at him.

But she wasn't smiling at him.

She wasn't even _looking_ at him.

However genuine her reunion with Akatsuki was, there was a forced mannerism to the way she never looked in his direction, avoiding his searching gaze.

That had always been typically her.

Ignore the problem, pretend it wasn't there, but if forced to acknowledge it, brush it off with a pretty smile as though it was no big deal. He might have smiled, might have found humor in the way he could still read her like an open book – but instead, he was left with a sense of loss, and bone deep regret he was not prepared to face.

Yet he watched her, forcing himself to see the genuine happiness in her eyes as she embraced Sasori, and Pain, and the slight twitch of discomfort in her fingers, a clear sign that she was aware of him. Her face that no longer bore traces of childish innocence, that had but a shadow of resemblance of a girl he once left behind. And when their gazes met once more, as she squared her shoulders resolutely and the smile dwindled to a pretty, though shallow imitation, he knew they were too dark, too hard. His stomach clenched, regret clawing at his insides.

The lounge had gone quiet, the group holding their breaths as the two former lovers stood face to face. It lasted only a moment, as they silently assessed each other. Then Serena's lips quirked, though not genuinely, and she spoke:

"Hello", she paused slightly, "-_Itachi_".

He made no reply, didn't have the chance as Hidan shattered the tense moment, slinging his arm over her shoulders and drawing her into the seat at his right, his laugh rather forced.

"What's up, little siren?" he asked, pushing a shot glass in front of her. "Been ages since I saw your pretty face".

Konan visibly rolled her eyes at his pick-up line, striding towards Pain's seat. Serena smiled uneasily, pushing the glass away as she responded to Hidan's question.

"Rather little".

Hidan snorted, clearly not impressed with her answer.

"Right," he drawled, downing a shot of tequila and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Plannin' on tellin' me why the fuck you just abandoned your career?"

Itachi watched her carefully as Hidan voiced the question they had all wanted to ask her, not missing the twitch of her fingers or the flicker of her eyes. Found her reaction odd, seeing as she was the one who had willingly stepped down from the stage.

He had known, of course. With a fiancée like Sayuri, and a meddlesome mother-in-law like Mira Himoto, such news spread faster than wildfire. News - and accusations.

Though he knew nothing of it, had no right to question her ulterior motives, still a sliver of him hoped, and dreaded, that she might have done it for him.

A foolish thing to hope for.

Then again, he'd always been foolish with her.

"It was time," Serena responded, her smile unconvincing, "to come home".

"_And we'll always have each other, right, Itachi?"_

* * *

><p>Neji watched the gyrating bodies beneath the flashing lights, trying to drown the spark of irritation towards the sulking Uchiha beside him. They were leaning against the bar, Neji currently nursing his second glass of scotch, courtesy of the redhead bartender flashing him flirtatious grins.<p>

"Get your ass back there," he demanded to the Uchiha, who shot him a glare. Of course that was returned with a death-glare from the Hyuuga, whose handsome features were pulled into a dark scowl. He hadn't gone through the trouble of getting those girls to sit with them just so Sasuke could avoid the unavoidable. Granted, the introduction was rather awkward, but Sasuke wasn't exactly doing anything to make it any better. Monosyllabic retorts weren't the best way to enlist a girl's help.

"How do you expect to get anything from her if you're not even talking to her?" Neji demanded to know.

Sasuke sighed in irritation.

"I don't like being ambushed, Hyuuga".

Neji shot him a look, and shrugged noncommittally.

"Ambushed or not, this is a golden opportunity and you're screwing it up".

Sasuke scowled at that, not very happy to have the entire mess pinned on him. And although he was becoming increasingly skeptical towards the girl, he knew there was a point to what the stuck-up Hyuuga was saying.

"Fine". He gave in, sighing. "Ten minutes and we'll go back".

Thinking that he couldn't get anything better out of him, Neji nodded acceptance.

"Deal".

They clinked their glasses together, and downed the burning liquid.

Neji's allowed his gaze to sweep idly over the dance floor as he lowered the glass to dangle lightly from his fingertips. Masses of swaying red fabric, glowing skin and the gleam of crystal glasses of alcohol. There was little of interest, until he caught a flash of golden skin and dark locks, and for a moment he allowed his gaze to settle on the dancing girl.

She was slender with sunkissed skin that contrasted nicely to the stark red of her dress. The dress itself was a strapless, silky affair clinging to her body like a second skin, ending on her mid-thighs, barely hiding her assets and yet showing very little of what guys wanted to see. She twirled and swayed her hips, arms stretched up and head thrown back, a cascade of chocolate curls bouncing with her movements.

He took another sip of his drink; interest peaked by this brunette. Pale eyes trailed her body, admiring the sway of her hips and those mile-long legs. A glance around the room made it obvious he wasn't the only one watching her, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of long legs and a delectable ass.

His mind froze.

He _knew_ that ass.

He sought her face, and nearly choked on his drink.

Tenten.

Neji eyed her incredulously, taking in the long, dark hair swinging in a silken cloud around her shoulders, her golden skin and the tempting dress he had been admiring.

He'd been admiring _Tenten_.

A few months ago that might have unsettled him. But there was no denying that he was attracted to the fiery brunette on his swimming team. Certainly not after he was so damn near _fucking_ her senseless at the engagement party hadn't Sasuke made his convenient entrance. Nor could he deny the pang of arousal at seeing her dancing so provocatively (and he didn't even know that she _could_ _dance_).

He put his drink down cautiously as he watched her, a familiar heat coiling in the pit of his belly. Silently he wondered how she would react if he was to put his hands on her, and the middle of the club. Wondered if he could coerce her to doing some of the things she'd done in bed, just this time – _without interruptions_.

He reached for his glass again as he nursed that particular thought, miraculously filled by the redhead smiling flirtatiously a couple of feet away. He acknowledged it; raising his glass to her in a '_thank you'_ to ensure she would provide him alcohol the next time he went here, but his interest was focused elsewhere. Turning back, he saw to his dismay one of the seniors at St. Konoha approach the brunette, pressing himself against her back and putting his hands on her hips. He half-expected Tenten to swivel on her feet and pummel the guy to the ground, but instead she pressed herself against his chest, arms coming up to gently grasp the back of his neck. And judging by her expression she was very satisfied to have his hands on her.

Suddenly it wasn't so pleasant to watch her.

That guy did _not_ fit into the picture.

Involuntarily, he imagined his own hands on her. Remembered the feel of her when she had pulled him on top of her at the engagement party, soft and firm and hot.

His gut clenched.

And then he frowned, not at all liking where this guy was headed with his fingers. Or Tenten's lack of objection with it.

But at least now he did know how she'd respond to him putting his hands on her. Slowly he put his drink down, ignoring the inquiring look he received from Sasuke.

"I'll be back," he told him, the words swallowed in the loud music, although Sasuke caught on to his meaning. He watched curiously as the Hyuuga turned his back on him and walked leisurely, although clearly with a goal in mind, towards the dance floor. It didn't take much effort from him to know that Tenten unavoidably would be his destination. Granted, he might not have known hadn't he walked in on Tenten's drunken seduction, but it wasn't difficult for him to read the way Hyuuga had been watching his sister-to-be (_inwardly he shuddered_).

Tenten, oblivious to the sudden interest she had peaked pressed herself closer to the guy she was dancing with. The alcohol was making her pleasantly fuzzy and a need was growing somewhere in her, something warm and aching. The attention of whomever this was served only to intensify it. She closed her eyes, leaning further into the chest behind her.

Abruptly, the heat at her back disappeared.

A frown marred her pretty face at the sudden loss of warmth, but before she could contemplate on it any further there was a new presence at her back, warm and solid, and calloused fingers grasped her hips, tugging her backwards into a hard chest. She easily complied, hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his neck, fingernails gently raking across the sensitive skin.

Neji barely repressed a shudder at the way she moved her fingers over his nape, pulling her a little closer. She still smelled of mangoes and cream, he thought absently, his nose almost buried in her dark locks. Though she was balancing her dainty feet in three-inch heels she still didn't quite match his height, something he had always mocked her for in the past. But now he was only pleased. His hands skimmed over her taut stomach, the curve of her hips, and wondered how she would react if she knew it was him.

And acted on the thought, curious to see if perhaps she wasn't so displeased with his attentions.

With a sharp tug he turned her to face him.

She gasped, losing her footing at the unexpected move, and stumbled right into his grasp. Grabbed at his forearms for leverage, only to freeze when a hot breath fanned over her cheek. A muscled leg slipped between hers, and her eyes flashed open in shock. Couldn't see the guy's face as he leaned over her, his breath hot in her ear, but the long coffee tresses could only belong to one. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Enjoying yourself, Himoto?" he drawled, soft lips grazing the delicate flesh of her lobe. She gasped, a quiet, inaudible noise, but he noticed. She swore she could _feel_ that cocky smirk of his. And Kami help her, she was getting hot. Flushed pink when his hands grasped her hips, pressing her closer, to his chest, to the knee nestled between her thighs.

_Fuck me_, she thought despairingly, cursing the five mojitos, and the three tequila shots that was dulling her normally violent reaction to his presence. She couldn't even throw a snarky comment in his face, her mind gone blank.

And he knew.

Brushed his lips against her ear once more, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth. Was silently pleased with the shiver he got from her. Did it again, while forcing a rhythm to match the beat of the music. Moved their hips back and forth, sly hands leaving a searing trail through the fabric of her dress, over her back, down to the curve of her buttocks.

Tenten uttered no word of protest, tongue-tied, blank, too caught up in the pleasurable daze he was creating. But when he grasped her buttocks and lifted her smaller form against him, eliciting a delicious shiver and making her _ache_, her hazy eyes widened and she fought back. Pushed at his chest with her hands, trying, and failing, to create distance between them.

"_Stop_," she told him, breathlessly, his hand on her naked thigh. His response was to withdraw his lips from her ear, looking down at her with a self-satisfied smirk and challenging, pearly eyes.

"Why?" he asked, teasingly, that _sly_ hand caressing the soft flesh beneath her dress.

"Neji..." her voice failed her, eyes fluttering shut. His hand cupped the inside of her thigh now, his thumb brushing the skin just beneath the lacy edge of her panties.

"You don't want me to stop," he continued, confidence she'd like to beat out of him in every syllable. But she didn't beat him, didn't speak. Frozen against him when playfully, daringly, his thumb dipped under her panties, brushing the velvety skin. Retreated as he leaned closer to her face, their noses almost touching. She felt his breath on her lips, smelt alcohol, the musk and sandalwood of his cologne.

_Kami-sama._

She tried desperately to hold onto coherent thought, trying to remind herself that it was Neji fucking _Hyuuga_ who was presently playing with the edge of her panties, in the middle of a club, and who was so fucking _close_ that she only needed to lean slightly forward to kiss him. Her eyes darted to his mouth, a completely innocent look, she told herself. Met his gaze, knew he had seen. Knew he wasn't agreeing with her.

And acted on her thought.

The first kiss was a mere brush of his lips against hers, soft and warm and fleeting, like a butterfly wing. Hesitated, Neji's gaze studying her with a curious expression. Perhaps surprised that she wasn't protesting, spewing profanities as she normally did. She stared at him, taken aback by the gentle kiss, every thought that told her this was a _bad idea_, gone. The hand on her thigh let go of the supple flesh, rising to cup the side of her head. His mouth descended again, pressing his lips firmly against hers.

It was unlike the fleeting kiss before, or the ones in the dimly lit guestroom, needy and hot and without finesse.

_Electrifying_.

There was no other way to describe the arching sensation coursing through her system, the way her nerves tingled when his fingers wound into the dark locks of her hair, angling her head for better access. His mouth slanted over hers, warm and firm and confident, the hand on her hip slipping down to cup her ass, coaxing her to lift her leg to his hip, rising her onto the thigh still between hers. The friction made her lips part in a gasp; he took advantage of it, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to tangle with hers.

The hands on his chest rose to his neck, for better balance, she thought fuzzily, _not_ because she wanted to get closer.

And then there was only sensation, sudden and powerful, wiping her mind clean of everything else.

She responded to his kisses, sluggishly at first, fingernails raking the skin of his neck, rising to tug at his hair. Gained confidence with the rising alcohol in her blood, the sensation ignited by the roll of their hips. Felt herself go hot and wet, and didn't mind that Neji was the one making her feel like that.

From somewhere far away, someone coughed. She paid no heed to it the first time, but on the second, more insistent time, her eyes opened. Abruptly she pulled away from Neji's lips, pushing at his shoulders. He pulled a face at her sudden withdrawal, like a child denied its favorite toy, but took note of the pleasant flush of color had become a dark crimson of embarrassment.

Scowled when he saw Sasuke stand two feet away, arms crossed, amusement in his gaze.

"Your ten minutes are up," the Uchiha informed him, smirking when he met Tenten's wide, horrified gaze.

She pulled away from the Hyuuga, righting the hem of her dress, brushing nervous hands over the expensive fabric as if dusting away the traces of what just had happened. It made Neji frown, and somewhere in his mind a determination clicked in place. She wouldn't be so quick to deny what they were doing in the future. In fact, he thought, she wouldn't even think to be embarrassed when he was done with her.

* * *

><p>The three of them made their way towards the booth in awkward silence, Neji and Tenten safely on either side of the Uchiha, although the first would gladly strangle the bastard for interrupting a good time. The boys had expected the awkwardness would have remained in the time they had been gone, but was surprised to see the inhabitants in a lively discussion.<p>

The alcohol had loosened their tongues, it seemed.

When the three of them approached the table it was blowing over with loud exclaims, laughter and the occasional noise of outrage. Even _Hinata_ was participating. The source of this likely was the amount of alcohol on their table, an array of shot glasses, mojitos and cheery red daiquiris. The waiter had been very generous, it seemed. And extremely infatuated with the boisterous bombshell.

"What are you arguing about?" Tenten inquired, a slim eyebrow arched at Ino and Sakura, who were in the middle of a glaring contest. Stiffened when she felt Neji's fingers brush the bare skin of her arm as he walked past her. Her girlfriends broke away when she spoke, giggling. Thankfully too drunk or too occupied to notice what had just happened.

"We're not arguing. We're _discussing_". Sakura mimicked Ino's mother, who always assured the children that someone wasn't being murdered upstairs during her interaction with her husband. Ino snickered, downing her third margarita. The alcohol was doing pleasant things to her brain, making her forget that it was in fact _her_ tragic family life at Maison Blanchard Sakura was imitating.

Neji slid past the pinkette to take his spot, Tenten unwillingly forced to take the seat between him and Sakura when Sasuke slid next to the pinkette. Sakura, already on her fourth mojito, was a little too affected by the alcohol to lose her nerve, and smiled at him before returning to sip at her drink.

"We've been discussing what the purpose behind the black roses in the graveyard was," Ino elaborated, taking a sip of her margarita.

"And we're still disagreeing," Sakura spoke again, downing her shot glass of tequila, quickly mimicked by Naruto and Tenten.

"_Agreeing_ to disagreeing," Ino corrected her.

"Is that an appropriate subject, Ino?" Tenten inquired tentatively, jerking her head slightly at Sakura. Ino rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "You heard what the Hokage said. We should not '_suffer in silence',_" she made an attempt at mimicking Mr. Namikaze, speaking with an air of grandeur that reminded more of Ino's grandfather, the most revered Hiro Yamanaka.

"What better way than to openly talk about it?" she continued, more serious.

Tenten said nothing in protest, since clearly Sakura didn't mind discussing this subject, and placed her elbows on the table, folding her hands to cup her chin.

"_So_, what are your theories?" she inquired.

"Sakura thinks it's some crazy prank," Ino pointed a finger at Sakura, who raised her glass in acknowledgement. The Uchiha tossed her a look, slightly taken aback by her sudden confidence. But that might simply be the alcohol.

"Hinata agrees with her," Hinata nodded in agreement, twitching slightly when Neji watched her with a dark expression in his eyes. She looked down in her hands, before nervously grasping the strawberry daiquiri Ino had forced her to order.

"_I_ think it's some creepy message from those responsible for the shooting," Ino pointed at herself, carefully avoiding the use of the word '_massacre'_, as that would have an unfortunate effect on the finally comfortable state at the table.

"Lazy Ass over here only gives me monosyllabic replies", she pointed at the Nara, pulling a face, "so I'm inclined to believe he agrees with me," Shikamaru scoffed at her playful banter, crossing his arms, "and Naruto," she swept her hand in the blonde's direction, "has this twisted theory about someone planning on avenging the dead".

"Why is that twisted?"

All eyes landed on Sasuke. His expression was blank, but there was something about his gaze that was unsettling. Something Ino wasn't willing to challenge. An awkward silence fell over the group. Sakura looked at him from the corner of her eye, the beating of her heart loud in her ears. Should she say anything?

Normally, she wouldn't even have contemplated it. But with the alcohol buzzing in her system, and she felt strangely compelled to say something in protest.

"Because revenge is never the answer".

The words slipped from her mouth before she could think much of them. It took them all by surprise.

Except Sasuke.

His gaze was threatening when he looked at her, and she silently regretted opening her mouth. She didn't want to make him angry.

"What, some lame storybook told you that?" he demanded to know, his voice gruff.

Something about the condescending way he said that, as though she wouldn't have any sense to understand any of this, make her temper flare.

"_No"_. She was surprisingly forceful as she said it. Then, a little meeker:

"My sister".

"Your sister is a fool".

Ino froze as she leaned over to grasp the daiquiri on the table, eyes widening in alarm. She shot a look at Tenten, whose reddening face suddenly was drained of all color. Hinata twitched awkwardly in her seat, wincing at Sakura's expression. She looked as though the Uchiha had slapped her.

"Make him shut up," she whispered harshly to Shikamaru, kicking his leg for good measure. "She'll kill him".

Sasuke barely kept from wincing when he received a sharp kick to the shin. He threw a glare at Shikamaru, who shot him a warning look. _Stop screwing this up!_

"_What_?" Sakura sputtered. Her eyes were wide with utter disbelief, but something was ignited behind the glassy green irises, something entirely else.

"Teme!" Naruto chose that exact moment to play the knight in shining armor, face beat-red as he slammed his palm down on the table, causing their beverages to rattle dangerously. He rose from his seat, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. "Don't say things like that to Sakura-chan!"

Sasuke pointedly ignored him, glaring at Sakura's white face.

"That way of thinking is stupid," he drawled, the words laced with abhorrence. "Do you think the killers will walk themselves to prison?"

"No, but…"

"Don't you care that the people who killed your parents are still out there?" He cut her off, his words sharp and accusing.

"UCHIHA!" It was Tenten who went to Sakura's defense first, slamming her palms against the table as she rose to her full height. "Shut your mouth or I'll shut if for you".

There was a long pause as the two soon-to-be siblings glared daggers at each other.

Then suddenly:

"_Just for the record_," all pairs of eyes landed on Sakura. Her head was bowed and locks of hair obscured her eyes from view, but her hands were clenched and there was a downward edge to her mouth that threatened to break into a scowl. Then she looked up sharply, gaze seeking the Uchiha's like heat missiles, a fire burning in too-dark eyes that had him strangely unsettled.

"My sister is not_ stupid"_. She bit out the words as though they were the hardest thing to formulate, voice harsh and threatening. A rage she hadn't thought she possessed flared up like gasoline on a bonfire. She trembled with the force of it, had to curl her hands into fists to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Blood rushed to her face, splashing violent red on her pale skin.

Silently, she imagined herself looking quite like she had done at six, seven, shouting the worst things across the living room. Spiteful, hurtful claims that her nee-chan wasn't good enough, that she _hated_ her, and hated _everything_. Normally that would be enough for her to rein her temper, sate the rage with a firm reminder that she wasn't that angry little girl anymore, and certainly shouldn't act like her.

But not this time.

How _dare_ he say such things to her? Towards her sister?

"She's a hundred times better than _you_". Her volume rose as she got up from her seat, gaze unwavering as she continued to stare Sasuke down. Not even that voice in her head made a word of protest, an attempt at defending the boy, just as slim-eyed and red-faced as she was. A silent rage that only served to spur her on, like a snowball rolling down the hill.

"Kind, considerate, and a lot smarter than anyone of us," she continued, stressing each word. A twinge of guilt, a memory of words that said just the opposite once. But those were old wounds, _healed_ wounds.

_These_…these nonchalant claims, these biting words were fresh cuts. By what _right_ did he say that? He didn't know them, yet said things as though he was convinced they were true.

And she would. _Not_. Have. It.

"Just because others don't want to waste their lives chasing something that's _never_ going to _happen_," she put a not-so-delicate pressure on the words, almost spitting it through gritted teeth, "doesn't give you the right to judge them".

There was a bitter edge to those words.

A bitter reality.

She had been judged most of her life.

Her last name, her hair color, her large forehead – she had never been seen as what she really was. Only as the little girl who had run from her house and into the media storm perched on the front lawn, weeping, _begging_ for them to bring her parents back to her. She had endured years of it, being seen as the ghost of a six-year old, as the daughter with parents who were killed, but she could take it. She could handle the looks and the fake sympathy and the odd stares from people she's never known, but _never_ had she been criticized, _accused_, of not caring that her parents _died_, simply because she voiced her opinion.

By Sasuke Uchiha himself, who above all should have known what she felt. They were the same, branded on the same night, cursed to never see their parents again, to hug them or speak to them. Forever orphaned, forever damaged goods.

And forever remembered as just that.

A cord too tightly winded snapped somewhere in her.

He above all shouldn't pass judgment on _her_.

And certainly not her sister.

"If revenge is the sort of lifestyle you want, that's your choice," she seemed calmer as she spoke, a little less forceful, but they heard every word. The table was awfully quiet, shocked into silence. Even Ino, who often saw her temper flare, often was the _cause_ of it, was left speechless. Because whatever arguments, whatever loud exclaim or biting word, this raw, unbridled _rage_ was something she had never seen or been subjected to.

"But if you _ever_ insult my sister in front of me again, you'll regret it".

For several horrid, awkward seconds they glared at each other, though Sasuke, in Naruto's opinion, seemed oddly humbled – or perhaps still awe-struck by the daring of this girl. _Never_ had someone, and certainly not a _girl_, gone against Adonis himself and…_won_?

The blonde looked at his best friend, glaring fiercly, but mute.

Not one snide remark left his mouth.

Ino was the one to break the silence, plastering on a rather forced smile.

"Maybe we should order something?" she suggested, cerulean gaze darting between her best friend and the Uchiha. It was enough to draw Sakura from her red haze, turning to face the blonde. Her eyes, still too dark, had lost the fire, leaving them glazed and slightly distant.

"Great idea," she said, with a too-sharp smile, the merriment in her voice so fake Ino barely kept from wincing. "I just have to get some fresh air".

"Should I take your order?" the blonde inquired, tentatively.

The sharp smile cracked at the edges as she shook her head.

"Don't wait for me_"._

_I'm not coming back. _

She didn't say it, but it was pretty obvious in the way she retrieved her handbag and marched off, that she had no intention to sit beside Sasuke Uchiha again. They stared at her as she retreated, delicate shoulders tense, and her curls bouncing with each forceful step she took.

The Uchiha watched her with slim black eyes, not quite sure how to react to this. His hands were clenched in his lap, jaws clamped together tightly. He had never been spoken to in that way before.

Certainly not by a _girl_.

Certainly not by _Sakura Haruno_.

She had single-handedly made a mockery of his beliefs and tossed a threat in his face for good measure, telling _him_, Sasuke _Uchiha_, that he would regret it.

And she was Sakura Haruno, fangirl number one. The pink oddity who barely half an hour ago hadn't even dared utter a word to him.

He couldn't help but feel a little dismembered.

Apparently, he underestimated her greatly.

"_Don't underestimate your opponent, Sasuke," Madara had told him one night when he was eight. They had been in the private living room, with wooden panels and old furniture, his uncle seated in front of the fire, himself busy playing with his action heroes._

"_Those deceptively weak are often the ones that lead you to your demise". A sardonic smile played on his narrow lips. "My partner Kenji could make anyone trust him, with his smiles and charms, and he'd land the most devious criminal behind bars. _

_And then, as an afterthought: _

"_Be particularly careful with the Harunos. Behind sweet smiles and expressive eyes there's steel and deception and more strength than they'll ever let on"._

Oh, there was steel alright. And razor sharp words.

But it wasn't just the fact that she had shown more courage than half of their peers by getting in his face - it was the fact that she had managed to do something no one had done before.

She made him feel guilty.

Him_. _

_Guilty_.

It was a foreign, burning emotion, one he hadn't felt for as long as he could remember. His uncle and aniki rarely gave him reason to feel bad about what he did. And even if he did something, he usually didn't pay heed to their reactions. And yet, here he was, with a seed of guilt slowly taking growth somewhere in him, and the stomach ache worsened. Intensified.

It physically _hurt_.

He didn't like it.

Ino, ignorant of his inner turmoil, but unmistakably enraged by his treatment of her best friend, glared viciously across the table.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" she demanded to know, such an accusatory look in her sapphire eyes that normal people would cower in shame. But Sasuke was not normal people, and certainly was not swayed by the likes of her. He did not give her the satisfaction of an answer, scowling as he grasped the glass of vodka in front of him, downing it in one large gulp.

Things weren't exactly going as he had planned, he concluded, not at all amused by this unexpected turn of events. And judging by Shikamaru's glare he hadn't anyone to blame but himself. In fact, everyone save Neji and Hinata were glaring at him, although the latter simply fixed him with a solemn stare that was a lot worse than the other looks he was receiving. It was mirroring Sakura's expression, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the reminder.

In retrospect he probably had thrown the first punch. And it might not have been the wisest choice of words, claiming she didn't care.

_Of course_ she cared.

His stomach twisted once more, coiling, curling, clenching, and he barely kept from hunching over.

"You better apologize to Sakura-chan!" Naruto exclaimed, pointing a threatening finger at him, his scowl causing the whisker-marks to deepen.

"Tenten, where are you going?"

"I'm not sitting _here,_" she declared, glaring at the Uchiha. Although Neji suspected she was doing it to get away from him as making a point to support her friend. "Coming, Hinata?" she inquired at the young Hyuuga heiress. The girl looked torn, eyes darting between an increasingly red Naruto and the ominous Tenten, but she quickly gave into her friend, whose gaze sharpened in warning.

"H-hai," she mumbled, quickly rising from her seat and snatching the small handbag on the table. Tenten's gaze next sought the blonde, who had yet to stop glaring at the scowling Uchiha.

"Ino?" she called expectantly, snapping the girl to attention. Her glinting sapphire eyes darted between the brunette and the Uchiha, before she smiled sickly sweet

"I'll come," she assured her friend, the sugar-coated tone poorly concealing the rage underneath. "Just need some _clarification_". Her eyes went back to Sasuke at that.

Tenten scoffed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Suit yourself".

Ino nodded, and watched as her friends moved away from the table, Tenten having a tight grasp on Hinata's wrist as she guided them through the throngs of people. The moment sweet, innocent Hinata was safely out of hearing range, Ino slowly turned to face the scowling Uchiha, conquering his facial expression with an infinitely more terrifying one. Her eyes were dark, almost the same color as his, which certainly didn't bode well for anyone.

Shikamaru inwardly winced.

"What the fuck are you up to?" she demanded to know, pinning him down with a piercing glare. Sasuke's scowl deepened in response, and not willing to take whatever crap that came from her mouth, rose from the table.

"I'm getting a drink," he declared nonchalantly, stuffing his fisted hands deeply into the pockets of his pants. The four still left at the table watched him make his retreat.

Shikamaru dared a look at the blonde, who was trying, and failing, to burn holes in the back of Uchiha's head. Her nose was wrinkled and her eyes were slim like those of a malicious snake. And of course it was just his fucking _luck_ that she would decide then to direct that gaze towards _him_, a glint of expectation in those dark orbs that he did not like _at all_.

"_Well_," she drawled, shifting her body so she was facing him completely, slender legs crossing under the table, _purposely_ brushing against his shin. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Inwardly, he cursed Sasuke to hell and back.

This was just so _troublesome_.

* * *

><p>AN:

Finally, another chapter done!

Sorry for the long wait, but I've been busy studying for my exam and didn't have much time to get done with this chapter. But now I'm done with that (only a few weeks till the next one, unfortunately), and I'm hopefully back on track.

Now, Sasuke and Sakura had their introduction, which didn't go very well. Sasuke sure has his work cut out for him. More drama will come in the next chapter, with heated confrontations, and of course, more clues to feed the mystery. Not so much of that in this chapter, though there was plenty of awkwardness and drama.

I did a lot of things differently compared to the original. The introduction between Sakura and Sasuke is considerably more awkward than it was, but I also believe that it is a more likely reaction. Sasuke has never really been sociable and does nothing to make things easier with his monosyllabic replies. Sakura is all over the place. The last occurrence, with Sakura telling Sasuke off, shows that she won't take crap from anyone, and also I thought Sasuke deserved to get himself an earful.

I'm a lot happier about my new introduction of Akatsuki this time. I added Kisame, unlike in the original, and hopefully I managed to catch their personalities a little better than the last time. And of course, even more satisfied with the reunion of Itachi and Serena, though it wasn't a pleasant one.

Also, the scene between Neji and Tenten is more intense than the previous. That's because Tenten and Neji's relationship is the one progressing the quickest, although I can promise you sasusaku is right behind them! More will come in the net chapter!

As for the dresses the girls wore, there are links on my profile for those who wants a visual of them.

And thank you so much for your reviews of the previous chapter, Reignashii, missjewels, yobrother91200, The Sixth Sense, LilyVampire and SasuSakuKawaii!

To Reignashii – thank you so much for your review! I'm happy that you liked the previous chapter and that you're already spinning theories of your own. As for whoever is behind it all, I can't say anything to agree or disagree with your theory. There wasn't so many new clues in this chapter though, but there will be some in my next update. I absolutely love that you take the time to write lengthy reviews, and I appreciate every word you write! I hope you liked the first meeting between Sasuke and Sakura, and I can _assure_ you, he'll have a hard time with her after what he said. I hope you liked the chapter and that you'll review again soon!

To missjewels – thank you for reviewing again! And to answer the question: yes, there will be more interactions between Madara and Sakura, although it won't happen anytime soon, seeing as he is half across the world from Konoha by now :P.

To yobrother91200 - thank you for your review! I'm happy you like my story :).

To The Sixth Sense - thank you for your review! I do agree with you that the original quickly became dull, and I hope I will manage to avoid repeating the same mistake with this one.

To LilyVampire - thank you so much for reviewing again! Now that I'm done with my exam I hopefully will be more on track with my updates now. I hope you liked the chapter!

To SasuSakuKawaii - I'm so happy that you liked the last chapter! And that you are making your own theories, though I can't say anything to agree or disagree with them ;). Yes, Sakura is hopeful, as she has been crushing on Sasuke since third grade, although for being careful - that didn't work out for her. Or Sasuke for that matter. But I hope you liked it anyway. Serena is pretty intense when it comes to her secrets, so she does get kinda scary. I hope you liked the chapter, and please review again!

And please review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

* * *

><p><strong>New characters:<strong>

Hiro Yamanaka – the grandfather of Ino. He is Chairman in the Yamanaka Corporations.

Yondaime Kazekage – or Fourth Kazekage, is the father of Gaara, Temari and Kankuro. In the canon series he was Kazekage until Orochimaru killed him. In my story he is head of politics in Sunagakure, much like the Hokage in Konoha, though he is known to have a strained relationship with the Hokages, both Minato and Hiruzen before him.

Kohana Hoshi - a girl from Sasuke's past.

Kisame Hoshigaki - a part of the Akatsuki group. Works in the police force under Madara Uchiha, something that has caused a lot of strain on his relationship with amongst others, Itachi Uchiha.

* * *

><p>Translations:<p>

Honshū – largest island of Japan

Sunagakure - is a city in the westernmost part of Honshū, hence also west of Konoha, and is mostly known for tourism, due to its beaches and resorts. The relationship between Suna and Konoha is tense, mostly due to the fact that businessmen are streaming to the great corporations in Konoha, abandoning Suna.

Dojo - is a formal training place for any of the Japanese martial arts. In the Hyuuga Compound it is used for training, and physical punishment.

Dobe – idiot, dead last

Teme - bastard

Jashin - is the god worshiped in the religion Jashinism. The primary teaching of this faith appears to be outright slaughter, where anything less than utter destruction is considered a sin.


	6. Intrigue

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Intrigue**

_Most drama in our lives is really rather squalid_

- Tom Baker

* * *

><p><em>13<em>_th__ of August_

Brooklyn, New York

The side street was dark and quiet, littered with trashcans and old newspapers. A lonesome, black cat sauntered over the filthy concrete, sashaying its tail enticingly at the males still hiding in the shadows. A cab was parked by the red exit door of Plaza Hotel, the cheery yellow color faded with black dust. It waited merrily for its owner, currently on the other side of the street buying a hot dog from a pretty little lady with braided black hair and lush lips. The cat paused at its rear, curiously studying the red tail lights and the slight purr of the exhaust pipe.

Above there was a cry, akin to a dying animal.

But neither the cab nor the cat was prepared for what came flying like a giant missile through the air. It smashed into the cab, bending the roof with its weight, causing the windows to shatter into thousands of glittering diamonds. The sound reverberated through the side street, a mix of metal and crushing glass that stretched as far as across the street.

The cat gave a noise of terror, its fur and tail standing on end as it jumped away from the gleaming little bullets littering the dark concrete, before it turned and darted into the darkness of the street with a hiss. And the cab driver, once occupied with a pretty face, turned in horror at the sight of his cab, roof collapsed, every window shattered, and ran across the street, yelling. Passersby paused on their way from the cinema or work, first curiously studying the horrified cab driver, then becoming horrified themselves upon the sight which awaited them in the side street. A man, small and obese with double chins and sleek, greying hair lay on the disaster that once was a cab, dark, squinting eyes staring emptily at the sky he had fallen from. Young women screamed, their male companions bringing them closer for comfort, while a sensible student called 911.

More people came to, more cries of horror, another cellphone brought out to call for help.

In the distance they heard sirens, though they knew there was no hope for the old, shabbily dressed man upon the cab's roof.

No one noticed the tall, imposing figure exiting the Plaza, towering at least a head over everyone else. Dressed in a white hoodie and dark pants he could easily have been mistaken for a jogger, though if anyone had cared to notice the scars at the edges of his mouth they might have thought differently. He stepped across the street, a stack of files tucked inconspicuously under his arm. A dark SUV with tinted black windows was parked a few yards away, the engine purring to life upon his arrival. He opened the door to the passenger seat, sliding into the soft leather and shutting it quietly behind him.

He pulled down the hood, revealing a tousle of dark brown hair, and unusual eyes. A bright green that bordered on neon, pupil-less with red sclera. Zetsu watched him through lowered eyelashes, tapping mismatched white and black fingers against the steering wheel. Kakuzu sighed, tossing the files onto the dashboard as he leaned further into his seat.

"What's on the menu tonight?" the large man inquired, eyes fixed on the commotion on the other side of the street. The volume of the sirens was louder, a warning of their steady approach. Zetsu supposed it should have been unsettling, the casualness. But in a lifetime of tasks like this, it had become normal.

"Anything you want," he responded. His golden eyes were fixed on the rear-view mirror. The bright blinking of shrieking sirens appeared on the corner. Slowly, calmly, he rolled the SUV onto the street, mindful of the less observant walkers. "Boss will be pleased".

He threw a pointed look at the files.

"Any more tasks?"

With the casual manner he spoke in, he could as well have been asking about the weather.

"Not unless they find the hacker," Zetsu replied, steering the car onto the Brooklyn Bridge, turning their nose towards Manhattan. A police car passed, sirens alight.

"Got some balls hacking into Madara-sama's own database," Kakuzu stated. You wouldn't get yourself involved in Madara Uchiha's business unless you had some courage.

"Or just plain stupid," Zetsu muttered. No one willingly got themselves tangled into these affairs. Particularly not the massacre. Too many people wanted to keep that case cold and buried – Madara himself included.

"When are we leaving?" Kakuzu inquired. Zetsu shot him a surprised look. He clearly hadn't expected Kakuzu to be going with them. He had been serving as Madara's scout in New York for years now, and a casual spy from time to time. But Kakuzu hadn't been in Konoha since...he quickly buried that thought, unwilling to revisit that particular side of their past.

"Are you coming?" he inquired, incredulous.

Wordlessly Kakuzu handed him a torn piece of paper.

"Found this in his stack of crap".

Curious, Zetsu grasped the small scrap, holding it out in front of him as he steered the vehicle with the other. There was a phone number scribbled onto it, but it made little sense to him.

"Orochimaru's satellite phone number," Kakuzu elaborated. "Recognized it from when I was trailing him in France a couple of months ago".

"France?" Zetsu shot him a look of surprise.

Since when the fuck did _Orochimaru_ visit _France_? He would have thought the presence of Amaterasu Haruno would keep him off that continent altogether. After that vicious fallout the two of them had like ten years ago the woman with a stone heart had threatened to have that snake exposed if he dared challenge her again. But more importantly – why would a sleazy nobody like Mr. Dobbs have his number?

_Coincidence_?

Not a chance.

"Clearly, it's necessary to keep an eye on him," Kakuzu spoke once more, accepting the small piece of paper Zetsu handed back to him.

It would be necessary for that man to have bodyguards once Madara heard of this, Zetsu thought darkly. This was taking a rather unpleasant turn to an already troubling affair.

"So when do we leave?" Kakuzu inquired once more.

"In two days," he replied.

Kakuzu's mutilated lips twitched as he pensively twirled the ring on his left middle finger, bearing a familiar kanji. Instinctively Zetsu's eyes darted to his own ring, on his right little finger.

"Good".

* * *

><p>Dowtown Konoha<p>

Taka Nomiya

How _dare_ he!

Sakura stomped through the masses, pale cheeks flushed red as she seethed with rage. Two seconds into her march from the table the anger had bubbled over once more, and she was positively spitting fire as she went. People wisely steered out of her way, recognizing the telltale signs of female ire through their alcohol-induced haze. She hardly noticed, too far gone in her own rage.

That Uchiha bastard had some nerve!

She wrenched open the door to the ladies restroom, slamming the door behind her as she moved across the tiles. They were slippery from where people had spilled their drinks or hadn't been careful by the wash basins, but somehow she managed to move across it without ending up sprawled on her ass.

What right did he have to criticize her like that? He didn't even _know_ her.

She slammed the handbag down on the marble counter, viciously ripping it open to find something.

Just because she didn't have the urge to plant a bullet between the killers' eyes or drag them to prison herself didn't automatically mean she didn't want justice for her parents, for Kenji and Francesca.

Or for herself.

Entitled, conceited little….

She slammed her hands down on the countertop, salty, bitter tears stinging her eyes. He had no right to judge her. Frustrated, she rubbed her eyes with her hands, willing those _stupid_ tears to go away.

She wouldn't cry.

Not for him.

Not after what he had said. How could she be so _stupid_?

He might be a fucking Adonis, but personality-wise he was a tool. A big-ass, judgmental, _cruel_ tool. She glared at herself in the mirror, wondering if she should march back there and yell at him again. Maybe smack him.

Ok, maybe not that.

She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was the worst night she'd had since that disastrous holiday in France. A scowl marred her pretty features at the reminder. How the hell did this night go so wrong?

_Sasuke's fault_, was her conclusion. Solely Sasuke Uchiha's fault.

And why the hell would his friends invite them over when he so clearly didn't want her there? Come to think of it, they had all been acting weird, especially Naruto; like they had been expecting a disaster, or for something bad to come out of inviting them to sit down. Maybe they had been. Perhaps it had been their intention all along, to somehow embarrass them. Sasuke had certainly made her look like a moron most of the night. A prank - a dare maybe? Their newest scheme to trick a girl and make her look stupid? But then why would he make the effort of requesting to be her friend? He would never do that just to string a girl along. Not even half of the girls he slept with had access to his profile. Why waste time adding her if she was just another joke?Something was definitely not right with this.

_Nothing was these days._

She frowned, suddenly reminded of what, or rather _who_, was coming next week. It was still an arrangement she was struggling to come to terms with, although she wasn't hating it as much as she originally had.

Serena had told her what had happened three years ago, when they visited Amaterasu and the twins in France. Tensions had been running high, and not just between herself and Keira. Amaterasu had been greatly displeased with the attitude the twins had gotten over the last year, and after an incident at a party which landed Luke on page six in _Le Monde_, she had resorted to physical means of disciplining them.

The Hyuugas were known to do the same to their members, in the dojos. Hinata had told Sakura once, when they were eight and she discovered bruises on her torso. _It was acceptable_, she said, and Amaterasu shared that belief. Serena had opposed it, sparking off the underlying conflicts they had brushed aside in the past. She had tried to keep the twins from gaining Amaterasu's wrath, but the day of the twins' birthday, Luke had managed to throw an insult at her, resulting in the broken arm. Serena hadn't told her, or Keira, what had occurred, not wishing to bring them into the growing conflict. At first Sakura hadn't been willing to believe it, struggling to imagine that Amaterasu would lay a hand on Luke with the intent of harming him. Keira perhaps, for she drove everyone mad, but never Luke. It was no secret that she had always cared for him more, because he bore such a strong resemblance to his father.

But she couldn't deny the fact that it must have happened, for she knew it wasn't the first time her aunt had been physical with a child. She could vividly recall that time when she was four, and Amaterasu caught the cook's grandchild in stealing figurines from the lacquered cabinet in the old shoin. She had held his wrist so hard it had fractured. His scream still echoed in her head, a shrill, piercing scream that had made her blood curl where she was hiding behind the gold screens.

Breaking Luke's arm had been the deciding factor as to why Serena decided to make a case against Amaterasu. She had spent a year building a defense, and two more years in the court room, facing off against their aunt. In which time Keira's depraving of love and attention had landed her in the bed of her married English teacher, and Luke rapidly losing control with alcohol and fights. April had been particularly hard for him, after a friend of his died, causing him to seek out trouble more often than normal. Despite that she hadn't come to terms with this new, rapid arrangement, dreading the twins' arrival this coming Saturday, she couldn't deny the fact that she was lucky. Had Serena given her up for the sake of her own future, she would have been living in Paris as well, and perhaps be as equally horrible as them. Maybe them coming here would be good for them…although inwardly she thought it couldn't be very good for herself.

Her phone buzzed suddenly, tearing her from her line of thoughts. She dug her fingers into the small, black clutch purse, retrieving the bright pink object. The screen flashed 1 NEW MESSAGE.

She clicked on the touch screen, unfolding it, and her blood went cold.

From: UNKNOWN

_De Omnibus Dubitandum._

_Doubt everything._

_Uchihas cannot be trusted._

She had heard these phrases before, though could not quite place her finger on where. Perhaps when her parents still lived, during one of those riddled discussions they held across the mahogany dining table in her jiji's palace. They always used words she could not pronounce, phrases in Latin or English that were far too complex for a five-year old. Though the words rang with truth in the wake of what Sasuke had just said, she was unsettled. Who used Latin phrases and jiji's words…

_That's_ where she'd heard it before.

"_Uchihas cannot be trusted, _boy_," jiji hissed at Uncle Kenji, the tall, handsome officer with gritted teeth and clenched hands. They were standing on either side of jiji's grand desk, glaring at each other like warriors on the battlefield. _

_She was hiding behind the heavy curtains by the window, clutching Mister Puck tightly to her chest. She hated it when jiji was mean to Kenji-kun. __She saw Uncle Kenji slam his palm down on the polished wood, leaning forward with too-dark eyes and bared teeth, like the angry dog in the park. _

"_And neither can you, _Father_". The last word was uttered in mockery, a harsh, unkind mockery he used when he was angry. But the words were sharper than they used to be, no pretty concealment obscuring the real message. _

_Sakura watched, for the first time terrified of him. _

A sense of vertigo overtook her and her phone slipped from her grasp. She swayed dangerously and had to lean her hands against the sink to keep from falling. Her eyes met her reflection, ashen-faced with big, horrified eyes. Her phone had clattered onto the tiles, sliding across the floor to land by the nearby stall.

She felt cold.

There had been _no one_ in that room but the three of them.

_No one. _

She would have known. She would have seen the shadow under the door, if there had been one. No one could have listened in on that conversation. There was _no way_ anyone could have known of that fight between jiji and Kenji. And the two of them were already _dead_.

Suddenly the remnants of dinner rose in her throat and she had to hunch over at the familiar wave of nausea that hit her. But it was different now. It wasn't just the memory that had her stomach unsettled. Some _freak_ was sending her a message containing words no one should have known of.

Only her.

Another disturbing thought hit her, and she hunched over once more. Had this person known that she was in the room, hiding behind the heavy curtains? Jiji certainly hadn't, for he was always cautious of her presence during discussions of private affairs. Disliked to have her there whenever he was arguing with his youngest son. Kenji's eyes had lingered on the curtains, though. As if he had seen her.

But Uncle Kenji was _dead_.

She looked at her reflection, swallowing the bile in her throat.

Right?

_Of course he was_, she chastised herself firmly. Jiji could have used that phrase many times without her hearing it. And yet…he would have never spoken such words in public, always careful to maintain the gilded façade, the image of forgiveness and friendship between families once on either side of the chessboard. Who else could possibly have heard jiji's words? And send a freaky message like this? _But most importantly_, she thought, a cold shiver running down her spine, who would know she had been sitting with Sasuke Uchiha, if not someone _inside_ this club?

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the bathroom door suddenly opened, only to scowl when she saw none other than Karin enter. The girl was donning a skin-tight, strapless number ending somewhere mid-thigh, so ridiculously skimpy that it was a miracle her breasts and panties weren't showing.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, crossing her arms over her chest as she assessed the pinkette. "If it isn't Forehead Girl". She sniffed arrogantly, wrinkling her nose as though she smelled dog droppings beneath her shoe. Sakura schooled her expression into a mask of indifference, turning her gaze back to glare at her own reflection.

"What do you want, Karin?" she asked, irritated, the rage from before returning. She did not want to deal with Karin's crap on top of everything else that had happened. The night had gotten bad as it was.

Karin was not deterred by her tone, jutting out her chin defiantly. Unfolded her arms to study the manicured fingers on one hand, trying to appear above it all as she uttered her next words: "I couldn't help but notice you were sitting with Sasuke-kun".

_Of course_ she noticed. That girl was half pit bull.

Sakura rolled her eyes to her reflection, for a moment picturing her other standing on the other side of the glass. Shook her head at her own thoughts, turned to face Karin.

"So what?" was her nonchalant reply as she regarded the other girl. Karin was taken aback by her retort, pausing in her retaliation. Used to face off against Ino and Tenten who would come to her rescue. But she quickly regained her footing, smiling syrupy sweet.

"That's not very clever of you".

The threat was there, beneath the sickly sweet tone, the fake friendliness of her smile. Sakura was not in the mood to deal with it. It was the same fucking thing every time the two of them got in each other's faces, ever since third grade.

She was so _over_ it.

She grabbed her clutch purse, disregarding the phone on the floor as she went to move past the girl. Karin blocked her passage, standing face to face with her, an unflattering smirk on her lips. In her five inch heels she was taller than Sakura, although the pinkette certainly wasn't fazed. Wouldn't let herself be pushed around, too mad, too freaked out and just so done with this whole night that she wasn't thinking straight.

"What's not clever is you getting in my face right now," she snapped, a hard expression marring her pale face. Splotches of red colored the skin of her cheekbones and her hands were clenched, willing herself not to lose her temper. She wasn't the seven year old who screamed and lashed out at everyone, or the ten year old who cried at every little insult. Once more Karin was surprised at the forceful reaction she received, and how little Sakura resembled the crying little girl she could always bully into submission. But she wouldn't back down. Not to this pink freak who was trying to whore her way to Sasuke-kun's heart. A heart, she thought stubbornly, that belonged to her.

"Oh, touchy," she drawled, trying to appear unimpressed. Smiled viciously, pushed at Sakura's shoulder the way she used to do in elementary, spoke tauntingly. "What, didn't Sasuke want you?"

"Get the hell out of my face!" She placed both palms on Karin's chest and forcefully pushed her away from her person. Karin stumbled, struggling to keep her balance in the needle-thin heels. She was taken aback by the pinkette's violent reaction, but quickly schooled her expression back into a frightening scowl.

Too bad Sakura was far too gone to notice it.

"You know, you really are pathetic," she seethed, taking a challenging step towards the girl, "groveling at Sasuke's feet and envying every girl he looks at".

And he wasn't even _that_ great.

Karin looked as though Sakura had just given her a slap. Her jaw was slack and eyes wide with shock.

"I'm _pathetic_?" she seethed, face a flaming red with rage. How dare that little…_vermin_ say that she was pathetic?

"Yes.

"You bitch!"

Karin flung herself at the pinkette, claws unsheathed and teeth bared. But Sakura had already seen it coming and side-stepped out of the way. The redhead fell to the hard floor, wincing slightly. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, feeling the slickness of spilled water and remnants of alcohol on her hands and knees. But it only spurred her anger and she got up, this time burying her manicured fingers into Sakura's glossy locks, tugging hard. Sakura cried out in pain as a thatch of hair loosened from her scalp, but before the redhead could do more damage or even think to grab at her again, she had rounded on her and delivered a well-aimed kick to her shin. Her three-inch heel jammed into the spray tanned skin, and Karin swore she saw stars as she fell onto her back, the pain shooting up her spine. Sakura glared down at her, the back of her head throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the disconcerting satisfaction she felt at seeing Karin lying on the floor, groaning in pain as she clutched her abused leg. Strands of pink were still tangled with her fingers, the rest in a small chunk on the floor beside her.

Her fingers went to her scalp, returning moist with blood. Not much, but it gave her a clear idea of how much she'd actually lost.

She certainly knew it wouldn't be easy to conceal.

And they had _school_ on _Monday_.

She might have scowled at Karin, hadn't it been for her knowledge that Karin would be walking around with an unflattering black and blue bump on her lower leg – the bitch would have to wear knee-socks to conceal it. And Karin _hated_ concealing her legs.

_You reap what you sow_, she thought as she stepped around Karin's form, sweeping down to grab her phone, thankfully not wet or stomped on by Karin's feet. The redhead made an attempt to glare viciously, but it was thwarted by the look of utter pain and humiliation on her face.

"Leave me alone Karin," she told her, voice hard, threatening. And then she marched towards the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Outside, Ami and two other girls jumped, utter confusion etched on their faces upon the sight of not their leader, but Sakura. She quickly assessed them and smiled syrupy sweet, holding the door open.

"Your leader needs you".

"_Girls_!" Karin whined through the doorway, breaking them from their spell as they scrambled inside with horrified little gasps on their lips. Sakura shut the door behind them, before walking through the corridor towards the open dance floor. She noticed Ino and Shikamaru at the end of the corridor, speaking in hushed tones. Ino noticed her from the corner of her eye, nodding slightly in acknowledgement before returning her attention to the poor boy she had cornered against the wall. He certainly didn't look happy about his predicament. But she did not feel inclined to salvage him from whatever her friend was intending to do with him, feeling the sliver of suspicion flare up again. If he had played a part in whatever had occurred back at the table, he deserved Ino's cruel attention.

Instead she went straight for the bar; flashing that charming smile Ino had taught her at the male bartender, sweetly requesting a strawberry daiquiri. As he dished it up she retrieved her phone, bringing up the message she had received. Reading it once more, it still sent chills up her spine. Cautiously she eyed the crowd, trying to pinpoint someone whose gaze might linger on her too long, someone that was watching her. There was none that she could see, and perhaps, whoever had sent this had already left. She wasn't sure if that was supposed to comfort her or worry her even more.

From the corner of her eye she could see Serena's mane of dark curls as she marched towards the exit door leading into the alleyway, shoulders tense. Decided that this might not be the time to bring another problem into light. Her eyes returned to the message. Would like to have dismissed it as a prank – maybe one of Sasuke's fangirls pulling a prank, like Karin, but knew the words hit far too close to home for that to be possible. But…it could be a joke, right?

_A really _sick_ one, in any case_, that other voice stated.

She chose to face the bull by the horns as they said, clicking in the letters of a message, hoping that she was able to make a response even though the number was a Blocked ID. Pressed send, held her breath.

_Who are you?_

Message sent.

She released the air in her lungs, strangely relieved, understandably anxious.

Would whoever this was actually reply?

Or remain in stony silence?

Somehow, she believed it would be the first.

"FOREHEAD GIRL!"

A roar cut through the gyrating masses and the pounding music, rising to a shriek akin to that of a fiery red banshee. Karin was upon her before she knew it, all claws and snarls as she viciously gripped at her wrist, sending her flying. In high heels with the alcohol still thick in her veins, the world span out of control and she had no chance to prevent her fall. But by some luck she was sent reeling into someone, sending them both to the floor. She heard cries of horror from Karin and her group as her head jarred into a strong jaw, her small form landing on top of someone _definitely_ male, squeaking. For several seconds the world swayed and danced in front of her, red and blue and black, pain darting through her already abused head.

"Get off me!"

A growl reverberated in the hard chest her face was pressed against, menacing. Slowly she lifted her head to see whoever had cushioned her fall, and her heart stopped. Silently she wondered if this was the cruel game of Kami, or some other deity, or she simply had the worst luck in history.

Of course it had to be Sasuke Uchiha beneath her, scowling.

FML.

* * *

><p>Shikamaru considered himself a laidback guy.<p>

The sort of guy who avoided conflict and stayed under the radar, hence, logic prevailed that he shouldn't so easily get himself in trouble. But he did.

Continuously.

He blamed his friendship with Sasuke, and Neji, but _especially_ Sasuke.

_Definitely Sasuke_, he thought darkly as Ino advanced on him. She had somehow managed to corner him in the bathroom corridor, which conveniently, or inconveniently in his case, was not equipped with an exit.

Not for the first time that night he cursed his friend's inexplicable ability to insult every female he came across, although most of them had stars permanently stitched in their eyes and couldn't care whether he complimented or insulted them. However, he sure as hell had managed to insult one particular female tonight who was, no matter how Sasuke viewed her, a rather _crucial_ part of their scheme. And earned the anger of two equally terrifying girls, one who was currently directing her rage towards him.

_It was just so fucking unfair_, he thought, that he would be the one Ino Yamanaka would direct her anger towards when Sasuke (that fucking _coward_) had made his retreat. But women were unpredictable things, as his father told him, and Ino was certainly no exception to that rule when she directed her razor-sharp smile and withering eyes towards him, giving her the appearance of a particularly hungry banshee.

And he had thought his mother was terrifying.

"What the hell is going on Nara?" she demanded to know, placing her hands on her hips in an authoritative manner. In her killer heels their heights matched, and she looked him square in the eye. It reminded him of when they were children and their parents arranged play dates. Somehow, he always managed to throw an unintentional insult or in some other way ignite her foul temper, leading to a rather ugly meltdown. However, she wasn't having a meltdown.

She was catching on to their scheme.

He knew it was a bad idea to involve her.

So fucking troublesome.

"What are you talking about?" he mentally slapped himself at the decidedly cliché answer. Ino wasn't tricked either, eyes slimming dangerously.

"Contrary to popular belief," she drawled in a low, sultry tenor, tapping a red-painted finger against his chest, "I'm far from stupid".

_Oh_, he wasn't about to argue.

"Your friend is up to something". It was a statement, the conviction in her voice very real. She took a step closer, and he caught a whiff of perfume; a heady concoction of lilies and jasmine laced with crisp greens. She lowered her eyelids, peering at him through perfectly curled lashes, and to his grief, he found himself responding to her wiles.

"And I have the uncanny feeling that you know what it is".

If she was trying to entice him with scents and pretty eyes she was being successful – however, he valued his life, and knew she would gladly commit murder if he blurted Sasuke's intentions. So he remained silent as she waited for an answer. But when it became abundantly clear that he wasn't going to blurt his friend's scheme, she frowned slightly, before she morphed it into a seductive smile.

_Oh fuck._

This was…_bad_.

"Befriending Sakura on Facebook out of the blue," she took one step closer and grasped the collar of his shirt, noting absently that the material was finely woven linen. Shikamaru swallowed convulsively.

"And then invite us to sit down with you just like that?" Her fingers played with his collar, _purposely_ brushing the skin of his throat, as she peered at him, still smiling. "It was a rather…" she paused, fingers lingering at the top button, "_forced_ act, don't you agree?"

Shikamaru wasn't paying so much attention to what she said, a little pre-occupied by the fact that only a _mere_ _inch_ was separating them and she was playing with the buttons of _his_ shirt. And that she smelled like grass and flowers and was just too damn pretty for her own good. Had he been less occupied he would have scowled for being so easily thrown off-track by a girl.

By _Ino_ _Yamanaka_, of all things.

"_Obviously_," she delicately stressed the word, catching his attention, "he wants something from her". Some sense returned to him when he detected the danger in those words, and that familiar she-devil glint in her cerulean gaze.

"Don't know what you're talking about".

One would think that with a mother like Yoshino Nara, he would have learned to be a better liar. Clearly, he wasn't. Ino agreed with him.

"You know _exactly_ what he's up to, Nara," she retorted, confidence in every syllable. She put emphasis on her words by poking his collarbone with a sharp nail. "You're his _best friend_".

Someone else passed them in the corridor from the girls' bathroom. Ino looked at her from the corner of her eye before she directed her attention back to Shikamaru. She wore a self-assured smile that was perhaps even more unsettling than the razor-sharp one she used to intimidate him with. It made it appear as though she was certain she could find it out. And seeing as he had just discovered how sharp she really was, he wasn't about to underestimate her. It was bad enough that Sasuke had underestimated the limits of Sakura Haruno – he wasn't about to do the same with a girl who was likely even more problematic.

The next words that left her mouth confirmed his suspicion:

"And I'm going to find out what it is, with or without your help".

"Then why are you asking me?" the smartass comment left him before he could think. Silently he berated himself as the self-assured smile grew into a triumphant grin, _her_ suspicions now confirmed.

He did know what Sasuke was up to.

She leaned against him, effectively removing the last inch separating them. Despite himself blood rushed to his cheeks at the contact, eyes darting to her face. He wasn't normally one to lose his cool over a girl (he had dealt with plenty of those), but Ino was someone of a very different caliber from the rest.

"Because your life will be considerably easier if you do," she said, lips curling into a vicious smile.

Oh, he wasn't about to argue there either.

She had always had a mean streak, although he was convinced it had only grown worse with the years. But a miserable life was still a life, and he _valued_ his life.

There was an outraged cry, snapping them from their little conversation. They turned their heads to see what the commotion was about, quickly locating Sasuke Uchiha on the floor – with Sakura on top of him.

"What the hell is he doing?" Ino spoke sharply, though her attention was no longer on the lazy genius. Strategically, that would have been his chance to slip away, but then she would simply hunt him down again. And running away was such a pain in the ass. But Ino made the choice for him when she withdrew, eyes no longer directed at the two still sprawled on the floor, slowly advancing on something in the crowd. Unfortunately she threw him a warning look over her shoulder that clearly said _'we're not done'_ before she was swallowed by the masses of red.

Shikamaru sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.

This was going to be a lot more troublesome.

Inwardly, he blamed Sasuke, and Neji, but mostly Sasuke.

* * *

><p>Guilt was a strange feeling.<p>

Particularly since he had never experienced it before – well, except when he was caught stealing kaa-san's tomatoes and dirtying her freshly cleaned kitchen floor after playing with Naruto. But this wasn't at all like what he felt when kaa-san fixed him with her dark eyes. Mikoto's eyes had never flashed with hurt and something along the lines of '_don't you know better?_', making his insides twist and burn - and that fucking _ache_ that simply would _not_ let go.

He had quickly learned that alcohol wasn't an effective way to kill it off. In fact, the alcohol made it very easy for his mind to turn back to the occurrence that made his stomach hurt like seven hells and Itachi's cooking on a good day. Suffice it to say, leaning his head on his forearms against the smooth red of the bar, the sevenish shot of tequila perched in front of him, he wasn't faring any better than he had twenty minutes ago. If possible, it got worse with the effects of the alcohol.

Had he been anything but an Uchiha, he might have contemplated apologizing. But there was no fucking way he was going to stagger through the club like a drunken sailor on Marine Day, gushing some undignified 'sorry' and hope she would stop tormenting him with that _fucking_ look, and that _fucking_ ache.

He had his pride.

He was an Uchiha, and Uchihas never apologized.

Well, sort of.

He hadn't been this out of it since the Tanabata festival two years ago. And that had also been because of a girl. He pulled a face. He was not going to think about Kohana. The night was crappy enough without him remembering her strawberry locks and dazzling smiles and…_fuck it_, he hated his life. Getting drunk, fantasizing about _her_ - and all because of that troublesome, spiteful, _bratty_ Haruno girl. He resolutely straightened his back and downed the tequila shot, motioning for the redheaded bartender to send him another. She looked strangely hesitant, to him anyway, but gave in, shoving another glass towards him.

His phone buzzed. Retrieving it from his pocket he saw a new message from Neji blinking on the screen.

_Leaving with Hinata now. Good luck fixing your mess._

With a grunt he slipped the phone back into his pocket, and downed the tequila shot, grimacing.

_Fucking traitor. _

It was his fault that he got caught up in this mess in the first place.

He contemplated leaving, but the idea that he would run off with his tail between his legs like a scaredy cat was as unappealing to him drunk as it was when sober. Instead he decided to return to the booth, inwardly crossing his fingers that Haruno and her entourage had made their exit and hadn't returned in his absence.

He was turning to head back to the booth when something collided with him, sending him sprawling onto the alcohol-soaked floor. Said something let out a very feminine squeak as it landed right on top of him. Pain shot through his jaw as the top of a head slammed into his face, sending his head into the tiles, barely cushioned by his thick, spiky hair. The Uchiha growled in annoyance, inwardly cursing Neji for the umpteenth time for landing him in this mess, clenching his teeth against the pain burning his jaw. The sticky liquid beneath him began to soak into his linen shirt; although he was more concerned with a soft something was straddling his waist - _low_ on his waist, at that.

"Get off me!" he growled menacingly, causing the person to squeak again and lift their head from his chest, and he quickly came to realize just who was on top of him. And as if things couldn't have gotten any worse, the ache he thought couldn't get any fucking worse just proved him wrong, burning at his insides like Lee's favorite curry.

_Fuck me._

Impossibly wide green eyes stared at him much like a deer caught in the headlights, completely horrified and yet mesmerized at being on top of Sasuke Uchiha - who was currently looking particularly menacing.

"I-I'm sorry!" she stammered, wincing at the way he glared at her. She scuffled in his lap, causing him to stiffen and hiss under his breath.

"Get the hell _off_ me!" he growled once more, sorely tempted to simply shove her off, but he didn't dare. She had moved lower, and was now unaware that she was straddling his crotch. And it was getting really uncomfortable, which only infuriated him more.

This time she paid heed to his growling order, and hurriedly scrambled to her feet, in the process brushing herself against him in a way that made him stiffen. He hissed again, gritting his teeth as he attempted to force down the sudden inconvenient rush of hormones.

This was _not_ the time to get a hard-on.

But with the alcohol running through him, his hormones had a way of not responding to the order of his brain, and muscles clenched painfully.

He could not believe he was getting hard because of Sakura fucking Haruno.

The pinkette stared at him as he tried to regain control over his body, unsure of whether to run like a headless chicken towards the nearest exit or stay put and await her doom. She could vaguely hear snickers in the background as Karin and her little clique regained their wits, gleefully realizing that the position they had tossed Forehead Girl into was less than favorable. Reluctantly she reached her hand out in an offer to help him back on his feet, but he brushed it off and pulled himself up, wincing slightly in discomfort before he schooled his expression back into a glare. He directed his ominous black eyes towards the mortified girl.

"I'm really-"

"Save it," he snapped, dismissing her completely as he tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched painfully. He brushed past her, annoyed and equally embarrassed.

"_Hey_!" the sharp call stopped him in his tracks. Reluctantly he turned his head to look at her from the corner of his eye, stomach clenching. She was red-faced with clenched hands and blazing eyes, barely keeping onto that vicious temper she possessed.

"It was an accident," she bit out, angry, embarrassed. Tried to grasp at the last straw of her dignity, refusing to let him get away with acting like an asshole – _again_. And he owed _her_ an apology!

Sasuke gritted his teeth, momentarily caught up in the intensity of her gaze, not liking the way she was seemingly effortlessly worsening that ache in his stomach that was driving him fucking _insane_. Knew he should just turn back and sort things out, yet, with the hormones and the pride and his stubbornness, he refused to do so. To hell with the plan – he could solve this _without_ her help. Saying nothing, only giving her a dark look, he turned his back on her and retreated into the crowd.

He didn't get far, though.

He was roughly grabbed by the shoulder and viciously turned around to stand face to face with his brother. Said brother who thought he was at home, busy in the company of his friends. Judging by Itachi's expression he was far from amused to find the story he had concocted had been a lie. It wasn't very often that Sasuke found himself scared of his aniki's wrath, as the eldest son felt too guilty to actually punish him when he did something, aside from a rare, terrifying occasion.

Like now.

Clearly, the universe was conspiring against him today.

Itachi gave him a withering glare; the edges of his mouth turned downwards, the normally pale skin of his high cheekbones splotched red. But there were no angry rants, no loud demands for him to explain himself – Itachi found no need to waste his breath, trusting that his message came across anyway. Long, slender fingers closed around the fabric on his shoulder, tugging him along roughly.

"Come".

It was an order, hard and unyielding, instantly reminding Sasuke of Madara's own gruffly spoken commands, although Itachi's were scarier, smoother, leaving no room for protest. His feet moved without his consent, mechanically putting one foot in front of the other as his aniki dragged him along, gracefully maneuvering the crowd. Sasuke watched Itachi's tense profile, finding little else to look at, and wondered in his alcohol-induced state if perhaps Itachi was angry about more than just his indiscretions.

He had never gotten this pissed off because he found him in a bar before.

And maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, and maybe he was drunker than he thought, but he could have sworn there was a smudge of red at the corner of Itachi's mouth that normally wouldn't belong there if Sayuri wasn't nearby.

* * *

><p>Sakura stared at Sasuke's retreating back, the unwelcome sting of tears causing her to blink rapidly. She truly wanted for the ground beneath her feet to disappear and let the earth swallow her whole, or bang her head against some surface just to forget her embarrassment.<p>

Could this night get any worse?

Karin laughed, pointing at her with a triumphant smirk on her ruby-red lips.

"See? He doesn't want you, Forehead Girl. Too much _man_ for him".

Her lower lip quivered and she was about to turn and run for the door when someone conspicuously dumped their drink on Karin's head. The redhead shrieked as the vodka martini hit her scalp and proceeded to rush down past her neck to soak her dress. Ino leaned over the railing from the gallery above, looking like innocence itself as she waved her hand at the little group.

"Ooops!" she exclaimed childishly, grinning. "I lost my drink".

"Ino-pig!" Karin shrieked indignantly, her cheeks turning a shade of red to match her hair. "You're gonna pay for that one!"

"Yeah, I don't think so," the blonde drawled, flipping her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly before peering down at them with a gleeful expression on her face. She tossed a pointed look over their shoulders, causing them to turn curiously. Konan was moving towards them through the throng, accompanied by a burly guard. Her expression was one of indifference, although there was a determined force behind her languid steps, advancing on the group. Last year she had approached Ino and Sakura in the same manner – with the intent of kicking them out.

"That's enough for you, girls," she drawled as she came to a halt a yard away from the group, crossing her arms over her voluptuous chest as she peered down at them with cold amber eyes. "Time to go to bed".

There were exclaims of outrage, girls crossing their arms and jutting their lower lips out like petulant children.

"You're not the boss of us!" Ami exclaimed childishly, scoffing at the older woman. Konan was not impressed with the little show of bravado, fixing the girl with such a withering look that she instantly quieted down, moving behind the soaked Karin, who stubbornly met Konan's gaze. Problem was that Konan was of a different caliber entirely, and certainly would not be intimidated by the petulant act of a snotty teenager. If anything, it was an annoyance. One she would be quick to kick headfirst out the door to get rid of.

"I'm the boss of this bar", she stated, the confidence in Karin's stance quickly evaporating with the slight shift in Konan's gaze, "and I'm kicking you out because you're causing trouble".

"What about Forehead Girl!" Ami angrily pointed in Sakura's direction. The blue-haired woman was not fazed, pretending not to see her as she mockingly looked back and forth in the crowd. Sakura's lips twitched at her antics.

"Can't see her," she dismissed their claim with a shrug. Then smiled sugary sweet, gaze ominous. "Now, _piss off_".

They hesitated. The burly guard stepped up front, crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles flexing.

"_Fine_". Karin gave in, flipping her hair nonchalantly like Ino had in an effort to save face. "Girls," she announced, looking at them over her shoulder, "let's go. This place sucks anyway".

Konan visibly rolled her eyes, causing the redhead to scowl. But she retreated, striding towards the exit like a queen bee with her group of misfits tailing behind her – until they were escorted out through the backdoor by the guard who had followed them. There were shrieks of protest, fisted hands and cheeks flushed with humiliation. Sakura watched them almost gleeful, her satisfaction dampened by her own burning embarrassment and the phone still clutched in her hand feeling like dead weight. She smiled when Konan approached her, the tall beauty casually slinging a slender arm around her neck and shoulder.

"Thanks," she told the bar owner, fingers twitching where they still grasped her phone.

The blue-haired femme fatale shrugged her shoulders, as if it was no big deal. To her it probably wasn't.

"You welcome," she said. "I was getting tired of their incessant noise anyway. I'm running a bar, not a kindergarten".

Sakura snorted humorously at this, just as Ino swept down upon them, looking quite pleased with herself.

"Well, this is a night Karin won't forget in a long time," she spoke, pleased. Grinned like a Cheshire cat who just ate the canary. Sakura couldn't help but laugh, more so from Ino's expression than the occurrence itself.

"Sure is," she agreed, remembering the well-deserved kick the redhead bitch had received. Silently thanked her sister for forcing her to attend one of those self-defense classes Hidan held at his training studio in Westcorner.

"Are you okay?" Ino inquired, her previously pleased demeanor warping into one of concern. Konan patted Sakura's shoulder before detaching herself from the pinkette, striding towards the bar with some vague reason she hadn't heard.

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling unconvincingly. Ino didn't believe her of course, but chose not to press more on the matter of tonight's disasters. The night had been bad enough as it was.

"Have you seen Hinata and Tenten?" Sakura inquired, trying to steer off the subject. Ino chose to indulge her, nodding.

"Neji dragged Hinata off like half an hour ago. And Tenten got some call from that vampire butler". She brought up her phone, showing the text message Tenten had sent her in a hurry. "The limo picked her up five minutes ago".

"So it's just the two of us then?" Sakura asked, sullenly. The night wasn't looking up at all.

"No, the three of us," a voice announced. The two of them turned to see Serena smile down at them. In the dim, colored light her skin was flushed and she appeared to be a little disheveled since the last time they had seen her. Sakura raised an eyebrow at her messy hair and her smudged lips, in an absurd instance wondering if she had been doing something not so innocent during the time she had been gone. Serena pointedly ignored it, in turn taking note of Sakura's _awful_ eyes narrowed at the sight of her hair and her torn dress, the unmistakable mascara stains from crying and what looked suspiciously like the marks of sharp nails littering her delicate wrist.

"Has something happened tonight?" she asked, voice sharp as she grasped hold of the abused limb, studying the red crescent shapes in the pale skin. Sakura winced and looked desperately at Ino for help, not exactly keen on telling her sister that she had gotten into a fight with Karin.

Even if it _was_ Karin.

"It's _nothing_," Sakura urged, pulling her arm from Serena's hold. For a moment Serena looked prepared to pull it back like some tug of war, but instead linked her arm with hers, pulling her close.

"We'll talk about this later".

There really was no room for her to protest, not with _that_ tone.

"Where are the rest?" Serena inquired next, eyes scanning the crowd for Tenten and Hinata.

"They've already left," Ino declared, batting her eyelashes in a begging manner._ 'Please drive me home or else my papa will kill me'_. He would not be happy if he had to wake up the chauffeur to come pick her up.

Thankfully the elder Haruno sister had learned how to read these little gestures, and shook her head, smiling.

"You need a ride home?"

The blonde's smile widened further, and she nodded her head.

Serena reached her free arm out for her, Ino quickly linking it with her own. Sakura shook her head mirthfully at her sister's antics, thinking they must look ridiculous waltzing through the crowd arm in arm. Not that anyone would notice with all the alcohol they had consumed. But her smile faltered as her eyes landed on her sister's collarbone, her heart nearly stopping.

Perhaps for the first time she noticed it bare, and realized that she wasn't wearing the small key on the delicate gold chain. She wondered silently, as they strode through the crowd, if perhaps Serena didn't have the key with her at all times as she had thought. And maybe, just _maybe_, there was a way for her to peer inside that box of secrets after all.

But before she contemplate further on the possibility she felt her phone buzz in her hand, and this time her heart did stop. Could it be…?

Slowly she lifted her phone.

1 NEW MESSAGE gleamed on the screen. For a second she wondered if she shouldn't read it, but then again, she told herself, trying to calm her suddenly galloping heart, it could just be a message from Hinata. Or Tenten. Or anyone, really.

'**Right'** that other voice drawled, unconvinced.

She clicked on the message icon anyway, curious. Her heart hammered as it unfolded.

From: UNKNOWN

_I am Outis. _

_Who am I? _

Sakura furrowed her brow, confused.

_A riddle? _

What sort of freak…

"Who is it?" Serena inquired, peaking curiously at her phone.

"Tenten," she lied, quickly burying the phone in her purse. Threw Serena a reassuring smile, pulled herself tighter against her side, suddenly cold. Her mind raced, yet only seemed to return to one thing, like a one-track record.

What the hell was Outis?

* * *

><p>The tension at the table had become unbearable. They all watched her as if she was on the edge of breaking down, behind concealed smiles and carefully casual talk, leaving her feeling short of breath and overheated. Under normal circumstances, she would have handled it by ignoring it, but that had become impossible in the presence of Itachi. His gaze seemed to leave a searing trail along her skin, and when she dared a look at him, his eyes instantly sought hers, trying to pry into her. Her chest tightened painfully under their scrutiny, and she felt nauseous, sweat prickling at the back of her neck. She felt Konan's eyes on her, silently cursed the club owner to hell and back for ambushing her this way. Knew Pain was watching too, wary of her state, wary of what she might do. Likely wondering if she'd shatter and crumble or break in half.<p>

It was too much for her.

Quickly she rose from her seat with a tight smile and excused herself for a moment.

Without looking back she made her way out of the lounge, clambering down the metal stairs. She moved through the throngs of gyrating bodies, fighting off the urge to break into a run. She knew they kept watching her, feeling their gazes burn in the back of her head. The bile rose in her throat, and her head ached from their stares and the pounding music that drowned every noise aside from her own frantically beating heart.

With the last of her hard-earned self-control she forced herself to slow, normal steps, although her breaths came out in short puffs of air as she searched for the nearest exit.

Her gaze landed on the large steel door behind the bar, and headed for it in quick strides, hoping that she lasted to the exit before she was all over the place in splatters of quivering molecules. She ignored the call of the bartender, and pushed past the towering guard blocking the entrance. He looked baffled, but thankfully did not attempt to stop her as she pressed her hands against the door, for then she knew she would have screamed and shattered into tiny little fragments at his feet. With unnecessary force she pushed it open, feeling the welcome cold gust of air hit her overheated skin. The door had slammed into the wall and bounced back as she stumbled outside. She had to steady herself against the wall to keep from falling against the trashcans, hunching over as she tried to quell the urge to retch. The guard appeared in the doorframe, eyes sweeping her form before reluctantly reaching for the door handle. She did not notice, nor would she have cared, that the door shut gently behind her, focus solely on keeping onto the contents of her stomach and calming the erratic beats of her heart.

For several horrid seconds she hunched over as if in pain, before she reined control of herself once more. The cold air eased into her lungs, puffs slowly morphing into calm intakes and exhales. She leaned against the bricks, allowing the cold to soak her back as her eyes closed. She hoped this was a twisted dream she would wake from soon. Wake up and laugh it off and continue her life as though she wasn't moments from breaking and so, _so_ overwhelmed. What the hell had Konan been thinking, setting her up like that? Did she think they'd kiss and hug, forgive and forget? Move onto happily ever after?

She snorted inelegantly, softly banging her head against the hard bricks. Like that would ever happen.

The metal door groaned as it was pushed open again. Serena turned, expecting the guard to stick his head out and ask if she was planning on coming back inside. But it wasn't the burly guard.

"Itachi".

He said nothing as he stepped into the alleyway, carefully shutting the door behind him, effectively closing off her escape route. Of course she could turn her back and scurry into the street, but she was far too stubborn to turn tail and run. Reckless, she was.

Foolish.

They both were.

She watched him warily as he stepped forward into the sharp light, suppressing the urge to step backwards. Knowing, though not willing, to admit, that she was not prepared for this. Konan better stay out of her way if she survived this, she thought, her heartbeat quickening as her eyes sought his face, studying him with poorly concealed admiration.

He had always been handsome. She had been bedazzled by his looks the first time she saw him, solemn and quiet amongst the other kids, a dark, pretty boy. But the boyish looks had melted into something hard and darkly sensual, his face arrogantly aristocratic with high-iced cheekbones, sharp nose and pointed chin. A firm, unsmiling mouth she remembered well, and dark, hooded eyes, a familiar slant to them that made him look uncaring. Deceptive, she knew. His hair was shorter, she noticed, gathered at the nape of his neck and brushing down past his collarbone. And he was taller, broader, the lean muscles of his arms and abdomen thicker, harder. No longer a boy, she concluded, but a man, carved from rock and ice. Cold, hard, the gentleness of his youth gone. It saddened her, as much as it frightened her. There was darkness in his gaze that reminded her too much of another man. Someone she had learned to be cautious of.

She was not the only one giving a careful perusal. Itachi let his sharp gaze trail her small form, every little detail of her engraved in his mind. Though not an inch taller than when he left ten years ago, she was no longer the alluring little girl he could so vividly recall. He had always known she'd age beautifully, but it pained him to realize she looked lovelier now than she had done at eighteen. She was a woman, an utterly sensual, tempting creature with graceful limbs and dangerous eyes. Dark, sultry, guarded. Her face was still youthful, though innocence was lost and replaced with a wariness he didn't like. Her skin, rose and honey, had the same luxurious softness to it that he remembered. Yet there was little else he could reconcile this woman with the girl from his dissolute youth. But despite a decade had passed, he felt the raw power of her slam into him like a hard fist. Dark, alluring, she pulled at his strings, igniting something that he knew his eyes could not conceal.

_Desire_.

And she saw. Hers darkened in kind.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, voice soft.

"I could ask you the same thing," he responded. Serena realized it was the first time she had heard his voice since he left.

It was deeper than she remembered, smoother, like velvet.

Her heart clenched, throat constricting. The unwelcome sting of salt caused her eyes to glaze, and she bit her lip as he kept watching her, expectantly. As though she had come uninvited, and needed to defend herself.

_And that_, she thought, was simply _unfair_.

"That's funny". She forced the words from her mouth, the syllables quivering as she suppressed the sudden wave of grief that washed over her.

When she said nothing more, he moved closer. He towered above her, and for a split second, it wasn't him she saw.

She stepped back.

Itachi's gaze sharpened at her withdrawal, unsettled.

"I didn't expect you to be here tonight," she blurted, inwardly smacking herself for being such a fucking coward. And clearly, it hadn't been the answer he had wanted.

"Why did you come back?" he asked, forcefully.

Serena simply stared as the message sunk in.

He could as well have slapped her.

She needed a reason to come back to her own home? Needed to explain herself like a naughty child because she'd quit her career? To the man who'd turned his back on everything with not as much as a goodbye? Without the decency to tell her he did not wish to see her again? Her fingers curled into fists when a sudden rush of anger hit her.

"Why did _you_ come back?" she snapped, eyes like shards of green glass. "Three years ago? What was _your_ reason?"

He paused, watching her carefully, as though he was trying to discern her feelings, her thoughts. Too bad she knew how to hide her thoughts. The slight tightening of his jaw told her he also knew that.

"Nothing that concerns you," he finally responded, sounding detached.

"And yet here you demand _me_," she stepped forward, stopping only when they were a hairs breadth from touching, meeting his dark gaze defiantly, angrily, "to tell _you_ why _I_ came back". Challengingly, she placed her hands on his chest, not at all worried when his eyes sharpened dangerously.

Because he hadn't withdrawn from her.

Because his body couldn't conceal what his eyes could, couldn't trick and deceive her. She felt his heart against her palm, only beating slightly quicker than normal. She knew, for she had spent a great deal of time listening to his heart, in bed at night, under the tree in the school's garden, while hiding in the attic.

His body couldn't lie to her. She knew it too well.

"Why is that?" she questioned him, hands sliding upward, capturing strands of his hair. It was silky to the touch, had always been, and she found herself surprised that it wasn't at all as different as it looked. It felt like her Itachi. Maybe, he wasn't all gone.

He watched her, a wary expression on his dark face. It had been a mistake, going after her. It had been his intention to confront her, make her know that there was nothing that would keep him from going through with this marriage – but alas, he had underestimated her. He'd lost his senses, _must have_, but now that he had regained them, he was already ensnared. Her touch ignited something he'd long since buried, something he could _not_ afford to be feeling. Not now when he was so close to reaching his goal.

"_Marry the girl, and I will relinquish my claim on your brother"._

But common sense was little, if nothing against her wiles. Against her allure.

Against that warm, _hopeful_ look in her eyes, that despite himself, despite his control, made his heart beat faster.

"Why is it important for you to know why I came back?" Serena pressed further, rising on the tips of her toes to fan her breath against his chin, hands anchored firmly on his shoulders. He smelled her; camellia and rain and something earthy. Sultry.

She paused, her gaze lowering to his sculpted mouth, her own parted.

"Is it because you hoped I came back for _you_?" Her voice was low, husky, as she uttered those dangerous, unwanted words, eyes seeking his gaze once more to see his reaction. She knew she was playing with fire, knew she was doing something she shouldn't, but she needed to know if there was even a shred of that boy left in him.

A shred of hope, a crack in the façade.

Something.

_Anything. _

And she saw it.

Only for a moment, a split second, but it was there. In his eyes.

Her lips quivered.

_He_ was in there, behind that steely armor.

She let go of his shoulder to touch his cheek, pressing her palm against the warm skin. Indecisively she bit her lower lip, searching his face for any sign that he might withdraw. He watched her apprehensively; knowing nothing good could come of this, yet found himself unwilling to retreat.

Whether he was simply stubborn or inflamed with desire, it did not matter.

And then she rose on the very tips of her toes, one hand snaking around his neck, the other pressing against the side of his head, and she kissed him. He stiffened in her hold when her lips met his, but she wouldn't stop, only pressing herself closer to his warmth, both hands weaving into the back of his head, forcing him to bend closer to her.

At first there was no reaction, and she wondered if she might have pushed him too far. Her tongue brushed against the seam of his lips, and then daringly she caught his lower lip with pearly teeth and nipped carefully, teasingly, at the flesh. It was then he responded, softly parting his lips, and she felt a long-fingered hand rise to anchor itself in the locks of hair just behind her ear. A hot welling of emotion wound tightly in her chest at the gesture, and she closed her eyes for fear that they might well over with stingy tears. He took control of the kiss, ferociously, as his free hand gently cradled her backside, the other remaining where it was to hold her _just so_. She moaned quietly against him, parting her lips for his prying tongue. Slender fingers entangled themselves in his dark locks. Heat spread through her body, a familiar tingling sensation that made her yearn for more. More kisses, more heat, more _skin_.

It just felt _so_ _right_.

And clearly, Itachi didn't think it was half-wrong either, for he was pressing her closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue tangled with her wet glossa, the hand on her back shifting to coil fingers through her black locks. She mewled softly into his mouth, the heat coiling in her belly, rushing lower. Feeling daring, a hand brushed his ear, caressing his jaw fondly before lowering to his neck, playing with the collar of his shirt.

It was then he was snapped from his haze, recognizing the intimate gesture and the familiar effects it had on his already weary mind.

He broke the kiss, staring down at her with lowered, burning eyes.

"We are not in high school any longer," he told her as he withdrew.

Serena's heels clicked against the concrete as she suddenly had to keep her own balance. She was breathless, skin flushed and lips still tingling with the intensity of their kiss. Her eyes were lowered, a dark, hazy green beneath dark lashes. She was the very epitome of temptation.

One he couldn't afford to give into.

_Like he had just done. _

"That wasn't exactly a rejection, Itachi," she retorted huskily, remaining as she was.

Irresistible. And utterly unconvinced by his claim.

He said nothing, knowing not how to counter her words when his actions had been opposite. Finding that he could not win this battle – for she had won it the moment he had returned the kiss, he retreated.

"Do you love Sayuri?" Her words cut through the air as he reached for the door handle. He paused, turning back wearily. She watched him curiously, head cocked slightly to the side as though she couldn't quite figure him out.

"That is none of your concern," was his succinct, though completely ineffective reply. She quirked a brow at him.

"But it was your business why I came back".

It was a statement he could not deny, so he remained stoic, silent.

Her lips twitched.

"Do you wish to know?"

He knew what she was doing. But he remained, watching her. Wondering if perhaps she had outgrown the little games she used to play.

Taking his silence for a yes, she stepped closer, but this time she did not attempt to reach for him. He was skittish, if such words could be used to describe the man in front of her, and she wanted to see to just what lengths she could push him.

"I'll tell you - _if_ you can answer me one question". There was no playful tone as she uttered those words. And the next were even graver.

"Do you still love _me_?"

That was not ground he was willing to tread, and he turned, opening the door. The booming music flooded into the chilly alleyway, though it did nothing to ease the sudden tension between them.

"_Answer me,_ Itachi". She spoke with surprising force. And then, softer: "You owe me that much".

He felt her tug at him, but did not turn to meet her gaze. Knew he was already skirting the edges of his control, and moving on thin ice that could very well cost him everything if he fell through.

"_If you see her again, you will never see your brother"._

"I owe you nothing".

He left her there with those words.

She watched him leave, feeling drained.

Tentatively she touched her lips, red and swollen from the kiss, and knew she had gotten her answer already. But another, more pressing one surfaced. What was holding him back when he clearly felt so little for his bride? Call her jealous, foolish, delusional – but she was certain that Itachi wouldn't have willingly given into her kiss had he felt as strongly for Sayuri as he had once felt for her. Something was off with this whole wedding affair, something that made her wonder if perhaps there still was a chance.

A chance for what, she wasn't exactly sure.

She turned towards the dark wall, leaning her heated forehead against the cold brick. Sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Threw a glance at the end of the alleyway, towards the street.

The muscles in her shoulders tensed.

Kurenai Yuhi was standing at the end of the alleyway, poise stiff as she held onto the strong arm of Asuma Sarutobi. She was as beautiful as Serena remembered, all luscious dark curls and sultry ruby eyes. An aristocratic face with perfectly arched eyebrows, full, sculpted lips painted a suiting scarlet, and flawless, pale skin. She knew they had seen too much; saw the accusation in those ruby eyes. She might have laughed at the irony of it all, or wept at the cruelty, for once that woman had been her friend. But now, as alone as she had been before, there was only a dull pain, quickly overshadowed, easily ignored. She nodded her acknowledgement, a slight tilt of her head, and smiled in challenge, daring her. The dark woman stiffened, straightened, and with a small nudge at her date, walked away.

Slowly she turned to press her back against the wall, softly hitting her head against it. Luck was clearly not on her side today. And now, she would have one more problem to deal with. _Although_, she mused, Sayuri would have come sooner or later.

Now, she simply would come sooner.

* * *

><p>Itachi's Apartment<p>

Sasuke had honestly thought the night couldn't get any worse. He had pissed off Sakura Haruno (twice), felt guilty (once), been straddled by the same girl (and to his grief, discovered that she was far from as unappealing as he first had thought), and earned the silent wrath of his brother when he discovered him in the bar. Suffice it to say he had enough humiliation to last a lifetime, and thought that would be the end of it.

Until Sayuri had showed up in (_only_) sexy lingerie fifteen minutes ago.

The blonde cobra had been keeping a low profile since the argument she'd had with his aniki the day prior, as she usually did when she overstepped her boundaries. But judging by the loud, breathless moans right across the corridor, and the slight creaking of a bed, she had been forgiven.

Thoroughly.

Was it sad of him to hope that Itachi was imagining it was his ex?

Probably.

But if it prevented him from marrying Sayuri in December, he couldn't care less.

Since sleeping wasn't an option, and he found himself without company to kill time, he had directed his attention back to the stacks of papers Shikamaru had left on his desk last night. Now he was seated on the floor, cross-legged, in blue flannel pants and t-shirt, the notes scattered in front of him. He had plugged in the headphones to his iPod to drown the noises across the hall, as he tried to concentrate on what was in front of him. But they still made as little sense to him as they had done yesterday.

They were like intricate puzzle, and he knew he lacked all the vital pieces. He knew fifteen died, seven from his own family. Four of the Harunos, one Hyuuga, one Sarutobi, one Senju, and one meaningless guard. But what could be the connection? What was the driving factor? These puzzle pieces gave no real answer to that. They only told him what he already knew. His gaze swept over them once more. Crime scene photos, reports, lists of suspects and witnesses, autopsies.

But no interviews, from witnesses or suspects. No documents discussing the Tatsu feud, or any other event that could be linked to the murders. And strangely, the autopsy report of Kenji Haruno was missing. It was the only one he did not have in his possession, and not for the first time he wondered why Shikaku Nara wouldn't keep it with the rest of the papers. Kenji Haruno was the most important body of the lot, the one containing the most clues. He had been the only one armed aside from the shooters that night. He had wounded one of them before he was killed. The angle of the shots gave indication of the distance between the shooter and himself, hence also the position of the killer.

Perhaps, it was kept someplace else, like the interviews clearly were. Or, he thought darkly, removed altogether. Scoffing, he left it at that, not quite willing to contemplate the possibility that the pieces were erased and out of reach.

He grasped the notes of Airisu Haruno's autopsy report. It was likely the saddest case of them all, Shikamaru had told him. She had taken a bullet to the head when rushing towards her dead husband, but hadn't died. Survived surgery, appeared to be on the road to recovery, but something went wrong. Tsunade Senju, the surgeon on her case, was blamed for doing a fatal mistake with her treatment. Two months into a futile attempt at saving her, the Haruno family shut off the heart-and-lung-machine keeping her alive.

His gut clenched; that burning sensation of guilt returning.

The picture attached to the notes was taken at a separate celebration. A face, soft and pale and stunning, smiled at the camera. She possessed unusually blue eyes, opposed to the green of the family she was married into. Icy pink locks were gathered in an elegant chignon, the famous emerald necklace resting against her collarbone. Aside from the eyes, he might have looked at an older, more polished version of Sakura.

"_Fuck this_," he muttered, tossing the papers onto the floor. Was ready to give up and crawl into bed, possibly keep his mind off that look on Haruno's face when she told him he had no right to judge her, when suddenly, something strange caught his eye.

Below the bunch of notes he had tossed moments before, there was a sentence that caught his eye.

…_Orochimaru Sannin took over as head of the investigation in January 2000…_

He grabbed the sheet of paper; pulling it towards his face to be sure he had read it correctly. The sentence remained the same. And below, another sentence:

…_due to the professional misconduct of the previous detective…_

He lowered the paper, wondering how the hell they had missed that.

There was a _four month_ gap between Orochimaru's promotion, and the massacre itself. Perhaps the most vital part of the investigation; the interviews, the autopsies, the reconstruction of the crime – and making themselves an idea of who were the likeliest suspects. His eyes darted back to the papers, trying to pinpoint a name to this detective. There wasn't any.

He rose onto his feet, marching towards the computer desk where his Blackberry phone was perched on top. Placing the paper on the tabletop as he grasped the phone, he dialed the only one who might know the answer.

"_Mendokusē_," he heard the voice on the other end grumble irritably. "_Some of us actually sleep_".

"No time for that now, Nara," he drawled in response, grasping a pen from the bunch gathered in an old coffee cup. He leaned over the paper and drew circles around the sentences.

"_Forget it, Sasuke_," Shikamaru retorted, more sharply. Sasuke could almost hear the scowl on his face. Clearly, he wasn't forgiven yet. "_I'm not doing anything until I've got twelve hours of sleep_".

"When you wrote the notes," Sasuke cut him off, seating himself in the office chair, facing his computer screen, "did you notice the fact that Orochimaru wasn't leading the investigation before January 2000?"

There was a pause, as the lazy ass contemplated what he had just said. The computer screen flickered to life in front of him.

"_When you mention it, yeah_," Shikamaru answered, more awake.

"Do you remember the name of the detective?" Sasuke inquired, writing in the password. Logged onto his profile, clicked himself onto Google.

There was another pause as Shikamaru wrecked his brain for an answer. With that photographic memory of his he would know if he had come across it. Sasuke's fingers hovered above the computer board, ready to write in the name.

"_There wasn't any name_".

Sasuke's dark eyes narrowed.

"What?"

He heard the shift of Shikamaru's body as he rolled out of bed, sighing irritably.

"_There was no mention of a name,"_ he elaborated, his mind already set at work as he tried to recall the document he had stumbled over during his search_. "There was only a document stating that Orochimaru took over the investigation due to professional misconduct"._

Exactly as it was written in his notes. But…

"That's odd," Sasuke muttered, more of a statement than a musing. It didn't sound right. Why was there no name? Surely the state's attorney would have that kind of vital information. And the police too.

"_Yeah_," Shikamaru agreed. "_One would think with a crime of that scale they'd be thorough_".

"Unless someone is hiding something". Once more Sasuke thought back to the possibility that someone was removing evidence, preventing any real progress to their investigation. But stubborn as he was, he was unwilling to believe that he wasn't going to get anywhere close to the truth.

"Are you sure there wasn't any name?" he asked, silently hoping that for once, that brilliant mind of his had failed Shikamaru. However, it was a futile hope, for nothing went past Shikamaru without notice.

"_Yeah_," the Nara boy confirmed, confident.

Sasuke's eyes slimmed defiantly. There had to be something Nara had overlooked. That manila folder couldn't just contain a bunch of _nothing_.

"Check again," he ordered.

There was a heavy silence on the other line.

"_Now_?" Shikamaru asked, incredulous. Was he seriously telling him get his butt down to his father's office at four a.m. to look for clues? After that stunt he pulled tonight? Now _that_, he thought, was taking a step too far out of line.

Sasuke sighed, annoyed.

"When you get the chance," he elaborated, though he was half-tempted to bark at him to get down there, since he clearly hadn't been as thorough as he had thought.

Shikamaru took insult at Sasuke's order, as that brat apparently thought he hadn't done a good job. Had he been Neji, he would have ended the call with a deathly silence, and Naruto would have yelled into the phone until Sasuke went deaf on both ears. But Shikamaru wasn't like his friends, and certainly wasn't the type to put effort into arguing with the Uchiha. It was just too fucking troublesome.

"_Fine_". He gave in, sighing.

"We might actually have something here," Sasuke pressed, conviction in every syllable.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes on the other line.

"_I realize that_," he deadpanned. Then, grumpily: "_Now, _I'm_ going back to sleep_".

Sasuke didn't have the chance to protest before the line went dead, but he was satisfied that he had got his message across. More at ease, though anxious with his new discovery, he put the phone back down on the table. He stared at the Google logo on his screen, placing his elbows on the table and folded his hands to press against his mouth in a familiar gesture of pensive thinking. If they could find the first detective, maybe they could talk him into telling them about the investigation, and who they thought had been responsible for the crime. It might be unlikely to think that a detective would be willing to spill information on a case that still wasn't solved, but Sasuke's experience with scorned police men told him that if the detective was mad enough, it was a possibility. And if so, they would have one hell of an advantage in making progress with their own investigation – and that, he thought, eyes involuntarily darting to Airisu Haruno's photograph, without the help of Sakura Haruno.

* * *

><p>Manhattan, New York<p>

The penthouse was a contrast of black and white, with accentuates of gold and red, though it was barely discernible in the darkness. The girl sprawled on his bed was a pretty little thing working in the reception downstairs. Dark hair, fair skin, partly exposed beneath the creamy sheets her small body was swathed in. Madara watched her with mild interest, reclining in a chair by the window in a dark silk robe. He was a regal figure, sharply cut in the darkness of his suite, his red gaze prominent against the faded contours of his face.

His gaze swept over the slender figure, trailing a pale leg, exposed back, cascades of raven hair. Normally he would not indulge in small pleasures like charming young receptionists into his bed when facing a quickly worsening situation. But Mr. Dobbs had had an unfortunate accident, leaving him more at ease, and the girl had possessed pretty green eyes, and while certainly no match for the dark sparkle of Serena Haruno's, had reminded him enough of the sultry creature to find her an appealing enough bedmate. She hadn't complained, easily charmed, easily undressed. Had been willing and eager beneath him, engulfing him in her wet clenching heat, making sweet noises whenever he thrust into her or caressed her soft, heated skin. The girl shifted in her sleep, a pretty, round face coming into view, and he lost interest, his gaze returning to the iPad in his lap. The screen showed the intricate pattern of Konoha's streets and houses, a red dot blinking in the heart of downtown. Though it had taken time, he now had unlimited access to Serena's whereabouts, unless she decided to have her phone surgically removed from her person.

It had been a simple enough task to gain the unattainable phone number of the eldest Haruno sister through Sakura. The girl-child was easily gullible, or perhaps she simply wished to escape the room and found the simple route to be to give into his request. She might not have so eagerly assisted him had she known that her sister had no desire to be in contact with him, though that was a piece of information Serena likely would not share with her younger sibling. It was after all a sensitive matter, something one would not wish to explain to a child. And the youngest Haruno sister was a child, no matter what her age said to the contrary.

A rather observant one, however.

He recalled a rather unpleasant instance when Kenshi's child made her appearance during one of the conflicts he had with the head of the Haruno clan. Waizu Haruno had always been a sly coward, placing his favorite grandchild in the middle of his affairs like some ominous threat of exposure once his first favorite had outgrown his little games. Serena had often conspired with her grandfather, particularly upon her return from exile, however, was quickly distracted from her little war games by his nephew.

The edge of his mouth tipped downwards at the reminder of him. That brat had been a thorn in his side since the Tatsu Feud, always difficult to control, even more so when he returned from New York like Hamlet incarnate after his seven year absence. A couple of years ago he might have been concerned with the possibility that the boy-turned-man would pose a large threat for his future, mindset on wrenching back control of the family affairs as he had been, but now he had a strangle hold on Itachi that assured that such would not be a possibility. He was certain that he would not pose a hindrance for his plans.

His gaze drifted to the sleeping girl, though it wasn't the pretty receptionist he was thinking of.

Red eyes shifted, darkened.

There were many things he intended to do once he made his return to Konoha.

But first, he thought, rising from the chair to study the manila folder Zetsu had arrived with less than twenty minutes ago, he had another matter to settle. The documents were spread over the round mahogany table, medical journals and autopsies - sensitive information he intended to burn in the privacy of his library, not leaving anything to chance with Orochimaru's little spies swarming Manhattan like vermin. His gaze settled on the scrap of paper with the unmistakable scribbles of Mr. Dobbs. It would seem that he and Orochimaru had something in common. Something that once again was causing Madara to question if the viper understood the consequences of breaking the understanding they had made seven years ago.

He already knew of his little excursion to Paris in July, for Kakuzu, albeit a man with questionable loyalty, was thorough in his work. And to hear of his visit to Simonard & Sorel in the 8th arrondissement, coincidentally the firm Serena Haruno hired to represent her in the custody battle against Amaterasu, had arisen his suspicion. It had been confirmed at the memorial service, when the fool had thought he could bring information to the table that would give him entrance back into Konoha. But he failed to understand that anything regarding the Harunos, and Serena in specific, was something he already knew. He had always been careful to know of her movements, for if he desired to obtain his goal, he needed to be three steps ahead of her. When she had a tutor like Waizu, such was a necessity. That was a detail Orochimaru failed to take into consideration, although he was aware of his intentions.

But this…he lifted the scrap of paper, eyes slimming, was something he had not anticipated. What was the chance that Orochimaru would be in touch with the same private investigator hired to obtain information in his own private database by pure coincidence?

From experience, and from his partner's philosophy, he knew that "_there are no coincidences in Konoha_". There had never existed any rose-colored glasses with Kenji, who knew far too much about the workings of the city, and albeit dead, he put more faith in his belief than leaving this issue to chance. Orochimaru was after all a rather devious character, a master of manipulation, as proof with his little recruit school in the bowels of Lower Manhattan.

If he was the one who ordered the files, however, was something he was less inclined to believe. There simply was something unsettling in Kakuzu's re-telling of his little interrogation game with Mr. Dobbs, leaving him to conclude that he did not only have a slithering snake on his hands. And the snake was by far an easier opponent than the one he was likely going up against. One who, despite his efforts, had already received copies of these files two days prior. In addition to the subject of the hacker who did the job itself, he currently had two pairs of eyes who now had knowledge of information that could potentially put everything at risk. Exposure was not an immediate concern with him, however. If it was who he suspected it would be, something as petty as public exposure would not be part of his game.

Yet, they both would have to be terminated.

And they would be, he thought darkly, if that _fool_ Iwashi had been capable of making progress in finding out where the money trail came from. Any other leads were getting cold by the hour, and too many of those had already passed since the hacking itself. How they had failed to realize that there was a security breach until after twenty-four hours had gone by, was an issue he would address once he returned. A new system would have to be put up, and his own files moved someplace else.

There was a low buzzing sound, snapping him from his thoughts. His intense, blood-red eyes darted to the phone vibrating on top of the nightstand of dark wood, only discerned by its blinking screen. He let go of the scrap of paper, slowly approaching the bed in long, noiseless strides. The girl shifted in her sleep, slightly aware of the new sound, though only turned her back on his approaching figure, burying herself deeper into the covers. His gaze lingered only momentarily before snapping to the screen.

Iwashi was calling.

Picking up the sleek phone he retreated to the study, quietly shutting the sliding doors separating the bedroom from the rest of the suite, not taking the risk that the girl might wake up and hear something she should not.

"_Yes_?" he drawled in greeting, coming to a halt by the enormous windows overlooking Manhattan.

"Madara-sama," Iwashi greeted, a nervous edge to his tone that made the Superintendent General scowl. Clearly, he could not even pretend not to have bad news.

"Did you find what you wanted in New York?"

"Get to what I want to know," he brushed him off calmly, not in the mood for niceties. There was a silence on the other end, and Madara could almost feel the grimace the detective was making. His red gaze swept over the city, bright and pulsating in the summer darkness. In some ways it reminded him of Konoha, and the pulsating vein of Westcorner.

"We managed to trace the money back to a bank account in Zurich," Iwashi eventually informed him, trying his best to keep his cool.

"Belonging to Ludwig van Beethoven". The deadpan statement would even have cracked up Ibiki Morino with the interrogation unit, but Madara was not a man with a sense of humor. Certainly not under these circumstances. The silence that followed must have been excruciating.

And this only served to prove to him once more that he was not facing up against some fool showing a little bravado. This was the work of a clever man.

"And the hacker?" Madara eventually spoke, his voice dark, threatening.

Another pause.

"I'm afraid, Madara-sama," Iwashi said, nervous, inwardly happy that his boss was presently on a different continent, "that…there's been no progress".

Again the silence.

Madara heard the uncomfortable shift of Iwashi's feet, how he held his breath. Felt no inclination to ease his discomfort.

"Then _make_ progress," he ordered, leaving no room for protest. "I expect a report on my desk on Monday, and if you fail to present something other than your incompetence you'll be spending the rest of your career as a parking attendant".

Iwashi winced on the other end.

"_Do I make myself clear_?" his superior drawled, dangerously.

"Hai, Madara-sama," the young man spoke, demurely. Terrified.

With no more words uttered he ended the call, lowering the phone from his ear. He glared at the screen contemptuously. Though the result was as anticipated, he would have expected _some_ progress. This man was not without fault. Somewhere there was a mistake, a clue, and he intended to find it.

The phone buzzed once more, the screen informing him he had a new message. Calmly, he pressed on the message symbol, red eyes narrowed to slits.

From: UNKNOWN

Hickory, dickory, dock,

The mouse ran up the clock.

The clock struck one,

The mouse ran down,

Hickory, dickory, dock.

Your time is up.

As he read the message, the digital clock on the corner of the screen turned 1 a.m. Any lesser man would have been afraid, left the building in that instance. But Madara was no normal man, and while it was unsettling, he knew how to discern between a threat and a taunt. It was not his life this little verse was speaking of, no threat of being shot through the gaping windows of his penthouse, but his search for the person orchestrating this little game of cat and mouse.

It would seem that the mouse he was playing with had run off, gone from his reach.

Madara's eyes were dark with steely determination, a dark promise.

For now, at least.

* * *

><p>AN: Another chapter done!

Sorry for the late update, I've had too much on my plate lately - not to mention this chapter has seriously been getting on my nerves from time to time.

_But_, I must say I am really satisfied with this one. It took a lot of work, but I believe I managed to capture the intensity of emotions between the characters. Believe me – it wasn't easy and I was pulling at my hair in frustration from time to time. But I'm really happy with the way things worked out.

Here are several new twists from the original, and some more clues to feed the mystery. First there was Sakura, and her first creepy message, and her fight with Karin. Then there was the familiar path of her being tossed into Sasuke's arms (although this time it was his lap), and some exploration of Sasuke's inner mind (at least how I picture it). What I'm most satisfied with is the confrontation between Serena and Itachi, which I think is a lot more intense (and steamier) than the original. I also am very content with the new twist on the relationship between Ino and Shikamaru (hopeless Shika-Ino fan – _just saying_). The scene with Madara was also something I was really happy with, although he's a hard character to portray. But I think I managed to capture him, and give you some insight into his mind and future intentions.

Also, poor Mr. Dobbs is officially out of the picture. I do love his passage into the next world (such a small character deserves a dramatic tumble), and the introduction to a new character – former Akatsuki member Kakuzu. The creepy zombie.

Anyway, I'm currently working with the next chapter, where there'll be more SasuSaku, a bitchy confrontation and maybe some romance. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how long it will take to get done with it, so give or take two weeks. Hope you'll be patient with me!

And thank you so much for your reviews, LilyVampire, SasuSakuKawaii, missjewels, Luka1Sakura and mooimcute!

To LilyVampire – thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm glad you liked how Deidara turned out as well. I hope you will review again soon!

To SasuSakuKawaii – thank you so much for reviewing again! I am so happy that you liked the chapter. I do try to switch between a dark and a lighter mood, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. As for Itachi, this chapter might help to give you a clue about his relationship with Sayuri, but there will be more of this as the chapters go. I hope you liked the confrontation between Serena and Itachi.

As for Sakura, I know she's childish and naïve, but that's just how she is. But she won't be walking with rose-colored goggles for eternity, rest assured. And yes, Sasuke is a dickhead, but that's how he's always been, whether in my story or the canon series. The difference is that in my story I make him suffer (* insert evil cackle*). And no, Shikamaru is a little too much of a coward to tell Ino; although I hope you liked the scene between the two.

You have quite a lot of theories going on, and some might be close to the truth. It's anyway an enjoyment to read them. I hope you liked this chapter and that you'll review again soon!

P.S. – I don't mind lengthy reviews, and truly appreciate that you take the time to write them :).

To missjewels – thank you for reviewing again! I'm happy you liked the chapter, particularly the introduction to the Akatsuki. I know some people get bored by side-pairings, but I'm afraid I love them too much to let them go (although I do try to keep more focus on Sasuke and Sakura at this point). I hope you liked the chapter and that you'll review again soon!

To Luka1Sakura – thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad to see some of my old reviewers following this story, and I'm happy that you like it. And don't worry, there will not be much friction between Ino and Sakura in this particular story.

To mooimcute – thank you so much for your review. I do hope you like the story! Yes, it does seem unfair for Serena to sweep back into normal day life and turn everything topsy-turvy for Sakura. Sakura is however not likely to fight against her sister, since she is as you pointed out her only family, and is much of a mother-role for her. Anyway, hope you'll review again and that you enjoyed this chapter!

And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

* * *

><p><strong>Characters:<strong>

Kakuzu – in the canon series he is a member of the Akatsuki, paired with Hidan. He was obsessed with money, and was killed by Team 10, accompanied by Kakashi and Team 7. In my story he works for Madara. And obviously has no scruples.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

Japanese:

Jiji - grandfather

Dojo - is a formal training place for any of the Japanese martial arts. In the Hyuuga Compound it is used for training, and physical punishment.

Shoin - is a type of audience hall in Japanese architecture

Aniki – Older brother

Mendokusē – troublesome

Hai – yes

Latin:

De Omnibus Dubitandum - doubt everything - a Latin phrase

Outis - you'll have to wait for the next chapter ;).

* * *

><p><strong>Events:<strong>

Marine Day – is a national holiday in Japan, which is a day of gratitude for the blessings of the oceans and to hope for the economic prosperity of maritime Japan. It is celebrated on the third Monday in July. Many people take advantage of the holiday and summer weather to take a beach trip.

Tanabata – or Star Festival, is a festival which originates from a Chinese folk legend concerning two stars -the Weaver Star (Vega) and the Cowherd Star (Altair)-who were said to be lovers who could meet only once a year, on the seventh night of the seventh month (7th of July). It was named Tanabata after a weaving maiden from a Japanese legend, named Orihime who was believed to make clothes for the gods. People often write wishes and romantic aspirations on long, narrow strips of coloured paper and hang them on bamboo branches along with other small ornaments.


	7. School Daze

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it

**School Daze **

_I had a terrible education. I attended a school for emotionally disturbed teachers._

- Woody Allen

* * *

><p><em>Jiji was sitting in his study, a king on his throne, an emperor in his palace. <em>

_Gnarled, withered, pale and worn, but still a king, still powerful and compelling, with sharp green eyes and enchanting voice. He was still her jiji._

"_Come, cherry blossom," he cooed, bidding her to come forward from the shadows of the doorway. The study was dappled with sunlight, little silvers of dust dancing in the air. It made him look paler, like milk and obaa-san's moonstones. She looked down at Mister Puck, staring at her with glittering dark eyes. _

_Despairing eyes._

"_Come, sit on my knee," jiji urged her, tugged her forwards with his voice like the clever strings of a puppeteer. He smiled, stretching his arms forward to catch her into his embrace. "Let me tell you a secret". She smiled back, held Mister Puck closer as she took one step, two steps, three steps…_

_His hands caught her under her armpits, lifting her with ease to sit on his knee, red skirts flaring with the movement. Always deceptive, her jiji, much stronger than he let people believe. Only Uncle Kenji saw through his deceptions, saw through the shadow game of lies and secrecy. He was standing there, by the door she'd entered through, arms crossed over his chest, gaze unreadable. She stared, wide-eyed with awe. _

_He was still so handsome, so strong, like the princes and knights in nee-chan's stories. _

_Her prince, her protector. _

_But jiji didn't notice him, for he'd never share a secret with her if he had. Instead he brushed away the curtain of pink locks with long, translucent fingers, his breath a warm puff of air against the shell of her ear. _

"_I'll tell you a riddle, Sakura-chan," he whispered, voice raspy, and dark, not at all like jiji. Long fingers combed her hair. Kenji simply stood there, watching with his all-seeing dark eyes. He seemed paler, skin no longer golden in the dappled light. _

"_I am Outis," jiji whispered with a voice that wasn't jiji's. It was dark, sinister, like the big bad wolf, the evil lord of shadows. The fingers in her locks grew claws, digging into her scalp, forcing her to tear her eyes from Kenji's gaze to look at him. _

_But it wasn't jiji she looked upon. _

_It was a monster. _

_Dressed in white robes, face obscured by a mask of white porcelain. Red markings adorned it, in the shape of a beaked beast, drops of blood dripping to fall upon her forehead. The cold claws of fear dug into her. A scream rose to her throat._

_Dark, glittering eyes looked at her through the mask._

"_Who am I?"_

The scream woke her.

It echoed the pink walls, reverberated in her head. Adrenaline thrummed through her body, and she struggled against the claws in her hair, the shadow looming over her. Another scream rose in her throat, but then she smelled camellia and mist, and heard the soft murmurs of her sister's voice. Claws weren't claws at all, but long, slender fingers; and Serena stared down at her with unreadable green eyes.

Like Kenji.

She sobbed.

She didn't know why, couldn't comprehend the reason for her hysteria.

"Ser-" she choked on the name, hand flying up to desperately clutch her sister's wrist as she brushed her cool palm over her forehead. Serena hushed her softly, sliding onto the bed next to her, slipping beneath the coverlet. Warm arms pulled her close, soft smells and gentle touches lulling her, calming her. Small sobs still escaped, and Serena murmured softly in her ear, like she always did when the nightmares returned, patiently trying to calm her. She whispered words of assurance, of safety, and promises that she wasn't alone. No questions were asked, weren't needed. They both knew these dreams, these repeated cycles of riddles and masks and family, though they changed form and meaning with the years.

They were silent as she calmed down, Serena combing her fingers through her pink locks.

"I saw him," Sakura eventually spoke, voice raspy from crying. Serena's finger's paused, and she shifted to lean on her elbow, peaking over Sakura's shoulder. Her face was illuminated in the moonlight, streaks of salt on her pale cheeks, and her eyes were dark, haunted.

"Saw who?" Serena asked, continuing to comb her hair.

"I saw Uncle Kenji again," she elaborated, staring at the wall. Her eyes stung. Once more the fingers faltered, but only for a moment. The coverlet rustled as Serena scooted closer.

"Sh," she murmured. "It's ok".

"He doesn't smile anymore," she told her, ignoring the comforting murmurs. Her fingers clenched the pillow beneath her head, a single tear running down her salty cheek. The edge of her mouth quivered; the ghost of a bitter smile.

She whispered softly, barely audible:

"He always smiled".

* * *

><p><em>17<em>_th__ of August _

Downtown Konoha

Haruno Residence

Monday had arrived gruesomely fast, like a rapidly approaching doom. At least that was how Sakura felt when she had been kicked out of bed that morning, dreading the fact that she would have to come across Sasuke Uchiha sometime during the day. Had tried to stall time and pretend she wasn't feeling well, but Serena had unceremoniously pushed her into the shower and ordered her to be done within the next half hour unless she wanted to enter school in her pajamas. And she meant it when she said it. So now, half an hour later, she was approaching the kitchen, donning her school uniform. It was tailored since the standard sizes never fit her petite stature, giving that slight air of refined elegance that most people lacked in uniformly clothing. A crisp blue, pleated skirt modestly brushed her knees, the short-sleeved white blouse with the school emblem sewn on the chest tight where she had grown since the measurements were made two months ago. The obligatory blue ribbon hung carelessly from her slender neck.

Had she attended any other private school, it would have been a rather dull ensemble. But dressing codes had been lenient at best since Jiraiya took over as headmaster, and the students knew how to take advantage of the loopholes. Sakura was certainly no exception. She sported a pair of blue open-toe Louboutin pumps with white polka dots that Danzō Shimura would have expelled her for, red fingernails that Koharu Utatane would have expelled her for, and had dared some color on her lips that _both_ would have expelled her for. Delicate bracelets of gold and pearls dangled from her wrist, and beneath the blouse dangled a gold heart locket from her throat; a gift from an uncle she never remembered in passing. Her hair was styled in lose curls, the locks she had lost in her brawl with Karin covered as much as possible, and she carried a brown Birkin bag fresh off the shelf at Takai Mall.

Serena nodded her head approvingly as she filled two cups with green tea. She rarely made it, preferring more Western beverages such as hot chocolate and orange juice, but she always served it the first day of school. And it was likely the only thing that she made better than their kaa-san. Kaa-san, American as she was, had never really mastered the art of tea making, though she served it every day at breakfast. Tou-san always drank two cups to make her happy, while the two sisters discreetly added a spoonful of honey to sweeten the beverage – a trick they learned from Uncle Kenji's frequent visits. He, much like them, couldn't drink a cup of bitter tea even if his life depended on it, and whenever his sister-in-law turned her back to him he dumped sugar or honey in it – and Sakura's, if she was sitting on his lap. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards at the recollection of that cherished memory. One of those few that never had been tainted by the dark tendrils of secrecy. Her sister dipped a spoonful of honey into the tea, even though the gyokuro had a sweet flavor. It was their way of remembering, re-living memories from when their family still lived.

"Feeling more ready to face the day?" Serena inquired teasingly as Sakura rounded the counter, plopping herself up on the barstool. There was a plate of pancakes waiting for her on the countertop, garnished with strawberries and honey, and a tall glass of orange juice to flush it down with once she had drunk her tea. Sakura shrugged her shoulders, accepting the cup of tea her sister presented her. Her eyes swept over Serena's form, noting that the damn key was resting at her collarbone and that she was wearing her flannel shirt. The one she always wore when she was renovating or doing some other form of manual labor. She sat across from her, elbows on the counter as she blew softly on the pale jade-colored liquid in her cup.

"I guess," she responded, not entirely convinced by her own words. Truth was; she wasn't ready to face the Uchiha. Not without the risk of either crying or wind up smacking him. Or both. And then there was that other thing, the thing that she hadn't dared tell anyone about. In fact, she hadn't even dared to _look_ at it since she got back from Taka Nomiya. But it was a heavy, searing presence in her mind, the source of a new bout of nightmares that she refused to talk about. Serena hadn't pressed her on the matter, although the dreams had been tormenting her all weekend, leading to Serena crawling into bed with her every night like when she was still that little girl who was scared of ghosts and monsters and masks.

What was worse than the nightmares though, was the questions. Questions she asked herself repeatedly, but never found an answer to. _Who_ was sending her messages? And _should_ she figure out the riddle? Or should she tell Serena, or Ino, about the texts? But most pressing was _who_ could have _known_ of jiji's argument with Uncle Kenji?

"Serena?" It was on a whim that she spoke, already half-regretting it when Serena's dark green eyes met her gaze over the rim of her teacup. Slowly she lowered it from her lips, arching an eyebrow inquiringly.

"Yes?"

Sakura hesitated, hoping her next words wouldn't cause her to suspect something.

"Why didn't jiji like the Uchihas?"

For a moment her sister remained silent, almost frozen, searching her face with an indiscernible expression, as she often did when she wondered why she would ask such a thing. Though revisiting the past normally did not present an issue, family politics did. Sakura had been taught the basics of jiji's philosophy, the Tatsu feud and clan and business relations, Serena finding such necessary as she became older and interacted more and more with the other powerful families in the city. But diving into the belly of the beast - the secrets their family was in possession of, whom they controlled and who despised them for it, was something Serena had never done. Not even when she subtly tried to coerce her into spilling something. Then again, Serena was a veteran at that game. Sakura repressed the urge to shift in her seat, trying her best to appear innocently curious under her scrutiny. Then slowly, Serena put the cup down on the counter, her gaze turning to the gaping windows, pensive.

"Bad blood, I'm afraid," she spoke, distant. A lonesome finger traced the rim of the cup.

"Our family wasn't exactly saints back then". Sakura nodded her head, recalling jiji's daunting tales and Serena's lectures about how their ancestors exploited the weaknesses of others. It was utterly disgusting, and equally fascinating. To think that their family held power over men such as Madara the First and Hashirama Senju, and the entirety of the Hyuuga clan, because they knew their secrets, felt empowering, exhilarating. It was almost ludicrous to think that the knowledge of one meager Haruno could force these influential families to bend the knee.

_Knowledge is power, Sakura_, her jiji would constantly remind her, tapping her forehead with a gnarled finger. _We see all, we hear all, we know all._

Those ominous words still echoed her soul, a reminder of who she was, what her jiji expected of her. Even from the grave.

"The Uchiha clan was less inclined to forgive and forget the Old Way than the rest of the city". Serena climbed down from the barstool, busying herself with a croissant she must have bought on her way back from her jog, putting apricot butter on the flaky pastry.

"Building empires on secrets?" Sakura interjected, raising the cup to her lips. Serena looked up from her work, still bearing that indiscernible expression, placing the knife down on the counter.

"Yes," she confirmed, nodding her head. Once more she averted her gaze, fingers shifting uneasily.

"It got heated between Itachi's grandfather and our jiji," she continued, catching Sakura by surprise. She put down the cup, forgetting to enjoy the sweet taste. This was something she hadn't heard before. She had thought whatever dispute between the old families had been put to an end when her great-grandfather still lived.

"It quieted down after he passed away and Fugaku became head of the clan". Serena looked down at her croissant, picking at a crisp flake with her fingernails. It crumbled, becoming tiny bits of golden on the white platter.

"Relations were mended," she continued, picking up the platter. "Uncle Kenji was Madara Uchiha's best friend and partner, and our kaa-san was Mikoto's closest friend and confidant".

Sakura remembered that. She would sometimes go with her kaa-san to the grand Uchiha Estate, though she silently thought it wasn't as big as jiji's palace. Mikoto had been a beautiful woman, with black, silky hair reminiscent of Aunt Amaterasu, and dark eyes, and a soft smile that made it impossible not to like her. And she always gave her guimauves from Le Bonbon au Palais, instead of the unsweetened puff pastries she always served for tea. Uchihas had never been fond of sweets. And Madara-sama…well, she certainly had seen him. Nearly always with Uncle Kenji as his silent, terrifying counterpart, and on occasion, Aunt Amaterasu.

Once, with jiji.

"But jiji never forgot the dispute, and he never trusted them". Serena's voice tore her from her thoughts. She had seated herself back on the barstool, continuing to pick at the croissant, distant. Then, suddenly, as if just torn from her daze by crackling thunder, she looked at Sakura, strangely.

"Why are you asking?" Though not exactly accusatory, there was an underlying suspicion to her question. Sakura shrugged her shoulders, trying to convey that it wasn't a big deal.

"Just something jiji said once," she explained herself, quickly grasping her fork and knife. Cut a slice of pancake with honey and a small strawberry, while Serena watched, more at ease. "That Uchihas can't be trusted".

She put the slice into her mouth, smiling innocently as she chewed. And immediately regretted uttering those last words upon seeing the tension in her sister's shoulders, as she continued to mutilate the poor croissant. Her movements were a little too forceful, repressing her reaction. She tried to smile, but it was one of those that weren't genuine, weren't real. Sakura watched, unsettled.

"Yes, well", Serena paused, crumbling another flake between her fingers, her voice taut, "jiji didn't trust anyone".

That struck a chord in Sakura, and she barely managed to swallow.

"_You're my secret keeper, aren't you, Sakura?" _

Why would Serena think that jiji didn't trust anyone? He trusted her, hadn't he?

Hadn't he?

Suddenly the pancakes weren't the greatest idea. That one slice she'd eaten felt like a heavy weight in her stomach. She put down her utensils, a little wary of that distant, slightly wounded look in Serena's eyes as she stared out of the window.

"Serena?" she asked, tentatively.

"Hm?" Dazed green eyes were torn from the window to look at her. They were glossy, as if she was close to tears.

"Are you ok?" Sakura asked, unsettled. Worried.

Serena snapped out of her haze and smiled, nodding her head in an assuring manner. But Sakura was far from assured.

"I'm fine," her older sister responded, picking up what was left of her croissant and taking a bite. They remained in awkward silence, one eating her croissant in an effort to appear normal, and the other rapidly losing what was left of her appetite, regretful and awfully worried. She watched Serena discreetly as she stabbed at her pancakes with her fork.

Had something happened between jiji and Serena before he died?

"So, are you ready for the ball tonight?" Serena inquired cheerily, breaking the silence. A little surprised that she had spoken, Sakura hesitated before answering.

The Leaf Society Annual Conservatory Ball was one of the largest events hosted in August, designed to be an initiation rite into the decadent world of business tycoons, heiresses and politicians. It was the wet dream of any ambitious teenager seeking to gain entrance to the cream of high society, where internships at major corporations, free pass into politics and other benefits were a matter of course rather than a distant dream. Sakura, being the daughter of Kenshi Haruno, and more importantly, the granddaughter of Waizu Haruno, had it in her genes to once become part of Leaf Society – as proof of the elegant gold-on-white invitation that had been standing on her vanity table since late June.

It was oddly enough hosted on a Monday night, not taking into consideration that most of the newest members were still attending St. Konoha. But it was the perfect excuse to be out on a school night. The event was to be held at Tanglewood Conservatories, a large estate on the eastern end of Old Konoha owned by Leaf Society as a country club. There were sprawling gardens, trickling fountains and a massive conservatory of glass, hence the name. Sakura's parents had frequented Tanglewood, either for a tennis match or luncheons with the other fine ladies of the board. She had looked forward to come back as a member, although her excitement had been dampened since she would be the only Haruno present. But now that Serena was back, she wouldn't be the only Haruno, and she wouldn't have to be chaperoned by the medicore uncle of Ino, Fū Yamanaka. Though she supposed he was nice enough from their brief interactions at social engagements, he would be a bit of a mood killer on such a big night – at least, according to Ino. Which of course made it true.

Too bad she hadn't found the perfect dress for the big event.

She certainly couldn't find anything in her own closet, and between Serena's unexpected arrival and damage control in the wake of the Red Affair dress shopping hadn't exactly been a priority.

"I haven't…found a dress yet," she admitted, a little embarrassed.

Serena quirked a brow at her.

"_You_ haven't found a dress for the ball?" The way she said it clearly told that she had difficulty believing that. Sakura had been talking about this ball for years, ever since the idea of initiation into high society had been planted in her head by Ino and Ino's mother – and Tenten's mother of course, who was chairwoman on every Leaf Society committee. Serena hadn't been half as excited, although she'd never deny her to partake in it.

"I didn't find anything in _my_ closet". Sakura smiled coyly as she put emphasis on that, batting her eyelashes at Serena, who's eyebrow quirked a little more.

Clever little…

"Fine," Serena gave in, shaking her head in defeat. "I'll think of something".

Sakura beamed at that, her face lighting up like a glowing sun. Serena smiled softly. It was in instances like this, seeing Sakura's genuine smiles that made it all worth it. Everything came down to her imouto's happiness. At least, she thought, until now.

It wouldn't just be Sakura she had to take care of from now on.

Sakura's Birkin bag suddenly buzzed. The pinkette dug her hand into its depths, retrieving her hot pink cellphone. She paused momentarily before clicking on the message icon, disregarding the concern that it might be another message from this mystery person. The message unfolded.

It was from Ino.

_R U ready? I'm outside._

Serena watched her silently.

"Ino's here?" she inquired. Her eyes looked down at Sakura's nearly untouched breakfast. It wasn't like her to skip breakfast. That was a trend followed by Ino, not her imouto. But she supposed it was the nerves of returning to St. Konoha. And in truth, Serena couldn't blame her for it.

Sakura nodded, pushing her breakfast platter away from her as she climbed off the barstool.

"How's my hair look?" she asked, twirling to show Serena the back of her head. Though she still refused to tell how a considerable amount of hair was missing after they got back home from the Red Affair, resulting in a sore and slightly bloodied scalp, they had fixed it up nicely. Nothing of the damage was visible now.

"Perfect".

"Great!" Sakura grabbed the Birkin bag perched on the edge of the counter, headed for the door, only to pause and look back.

"Serena?"

The dark-haired beauty, in the middle of picking up their platters, turned her head curiously.

"Do you know what Outis means?"

She knew she was pushing it, caught that suspicious gleam in Serena's eyes as she processed the question. It turned to confusion, as if she couldn't for the life of her understand why she would be asking something like that. Not that she could blame her for it. The only foreign words she tended to ask about were the ones she came across in a medical dictionary (which of course, Serena had no way of translating).

"Outis?" she uttered the word like it was a foreign concept, a small crease between her eyebrows. Then she turned away, shrugging her shoulders as she picked up Sakura's platter. "No, I can't say I do".

She paused by the sink, turning back to look at her.

"Why?"

Sakura shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Inwardly she was utterly disappointed that Serena didn't have the answer she wanted, or gave any indication that she was lying.

"Just something I read somewhere," she said, casually, skirting away from the reason behind it. "Wondered what it meant".

"Sounds like Latin?" Serena continued, mostly to herself, dumping the uneaten pancakes in the garbage bin, and then proceeding to put it in the dishwasher.

"Maybe you can check it online," she suggested over the clatter of porcelain, rising to her full height as she turned back towards her, smiling.

Sakura smiled back, nodding her head.

"I will".

Her phone buzzed again. Ino was getting impatient. She held up her phone, smiling apologetically.

"Have to go now!" she announced, waving the hand with her phone in goodbye as she swiveled on her feet to head out the door. "See you later!"

Serena watched her, caught in a sense of nostalgia. To her it still felt like yesterday when she for the first time sent Sakura off to Northeastern Academy with schoolbag in hand and her hair crowned by a pretty red ribbon.

Smiling softly to herself, she whispered:

"Bye, imouto".

* * *

><p>St. Konoha Academy<p>

St. Konoha Academy was the most prestigious upper secondary school in the city, built by the notorious Senju clan over a century ago to further their goals for wealth and prosperity. First an all-boys school, it had been where all the great men sent their sons to become equally great, if not greater, however, as the value of women became apparent with the trends streaming in from America after the war, it had been opened for both sexes. At present time it was the place where every parent wanted to send their children, convinced that no other school could match the impeccable criteria of St. Konoha, hence, couldn't possibly be good enough for their offspring. The school was nestled in the heart of the city's cultural district, commonly known as Old Konoha. It dominated the northern part of the city, beneath the rise of the hills leading into the mountains, towards Matsue, and the carved faces of the Hokages. Here were the remnants of the original merchant city, with narrow cobblestone streets and ryokan. The old ninja district, often called the Uchiha district, and the sprawling Senju Palace were the most commonly known, as well as the town's old market place, which played host to the annual Midwinter's Eve Festival. But there were many gems hidden there; the geisha district with its traditional tea houses, warehouses that were converted to restaurants and museums, temples and the old sentō.

The school was built at the bottom of the hill crowned by the old palace, separated by tall brick walls. Its nearest neighbors was the Konoha Metropolitan Museum; something of a white monster amongst traditional lodgings, made from marble; the exquisite chocolaterie on the corner of the street, barely fifty feet from the grounds, and the Tiffany & Co. boutique located across the street, where hopeful girls passed by on their way to class, imagining themselves carrying the costly gems on display in the windows. A Japanese café and an antique bookshop flanked the elegant boutique, in which the latter was frequently used by study groups and those seeking to escape teachers and fellow classmates.

St. Konoha Academy itself reminded of the pale brick buildings one would see in most cities in Europe, but prominent by its green roofing tiles and the Leaf symbol carved over the double entrance doors. Rising four stories, it was a series of buildings attached by a green courtyard, with galleries and arched skyways and stone stairs. It was not as large as other schools, but there was a certain quality to everything from the lockers to the mosaic-adorned swimming pool. It was disconcertingly flawless, with no rubbish in the hallways or filthy bathrooms like the large public school in downtown, and possessed the best equipment, thanks to the generous donations of many a parent. A traditional Japanese garden prided the backyard of the school, where the students enjoyed strolling, reading beneath the shades of the trees or to have a little quickie among the exotic plants by the water. The pond, a large, artificial body of water, was the very heart of the garden, where most people went to escape the murdering heat of June. It was perfect to dip their feet in, but those at the bottom of the proverbial food chain would sometimes fall victims to the predators and end up taking a swim.

Sakura and Ino stood at the entrance of the iron-wrought gates, gazing at the building with a mixture of anticipation, excitement and apprehension. Though they no longer were the fresh meat the older students liked to devour, landing them safely in the bully-free zone along with the rest of their peers, there were still those many pitfalls of simply attending St. Konoha. Like bumping into Danzō Shimura in the hallway, enduring Gai-sensei's white-blinding smiles during P.E. and have Rock Lee fall in love with you. And being scolded by their perverted headmaster.

_And_ having to face Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura was not looking too forward to being in the same room as him (funny how it had only been a week since she couldn't wait for the opportunity to sit beside him in homeroom). It didn't even matter that he was solely at fault for this development, being a judgmental, self-centered cocky bastard (she had spent the weekend finding new adjectives to describe him) – she was quite certain that she would not handle this situation in any mature way would she land herself beside the Uchiha.

Ino adjusted the shoulder strap of her Prada bag, shifting restlessly on her Manolo-shoed feet. She was dressed in the same ensemble as Sakura, although her skirt was just a little shorter and the blouse slightly unbuttoned. Over the uniform she donned a navy blue blazer with large, golden buttons from Chanel that would have every girl in the premises green with envy and quick to copy the trend. Her golden locks were swept up in a high ponytail, and her lips brushed by a hint of pink. She looked every bit provocative and sophisticated (if those could be placed in the same sentence), and the boys passing them took their time admiring pretty, sunkissed legs and the hint of cleavage she presented. By the time of the ball this evening they would be swarming like bees to the honey.

Sakura couldn't help the little sting of envy for her friend. Ino was always so effortless, lacking that awkward shyness that Sakura and Hinata seemed to suffer from, and never even needed to lift a finger to catch the attention of a boy she liked. It was something Sakura desperately wanted, so she would no longer have to remain an awkward teenager with forehead complexities and no boyfriend. Not that she wanted a boyfriend or anything; she tried to convince herself, while that traitorous _other_ gleefully replayed images of her straddling Sasuke Uchiha.

Mortified of her own thoughts, a blush crept over her face.

Ino arched a perfect eyebrow at her.

"What are you blushing for?" she inquired, a little suggestive quirk in her tone, causing the color on Sakura's cheeks to darken.

"Nothing".

Ino shot her that I-don't-believe-you smile, but made no attempt to wring it out of her. It did not take a genius to figure out what, or in this case _who_, her friend was blushing for. And he wasn't even in the premises. She barely kept from rolling her eyes, and couldn't help the stab of worry. There was no doubt in her mind that Sasuke Uchiha was up to something. Though she had no idea why he suddenly was so interested in her best friend, she knew enough about him to predict that this would end in tears, and worse, heartbreak.

_Sakura's_ heartbreak.

Ino's lips tightened to a firm line, vividly recalling Sakura sit on the swing under the peach tree, mumbling sentences between sobs. Words meant for dead parents, for a dead grandfather, a dead uncle. Witnessing it, witnessing happy, boisterous Sakura so broken, so at loss, had shattered the finely crafted bubble she had been living in. That day she began to see the world for what it really was. And that day she made a vow to always protect what was left of Sakura's fragile, _breakable_ heart, whether it meant to chase away the bullies or make her stop being self-conscious about her forehead. And she certainly would protect her from the likes of Sasuke Uchiha.

If she needed to hunt Shikamaru Nara down and force it from him what Uchiha's intentions were, with whatever means necessary, she would.

_And speaking of the devil himself…_

From the corner of her eye Shikamaru passed through the gate alongside Neji Hyuuga, looking far too laidback with his blue blazer slung nonchalantly over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up over his elbows. Both wore dark blue, tailored trousers and pristine white linen shirts, though in Ino's opinion Nara suited it better. Her eyes swept appreciatively over his form, noting that in spite of his lazy demeanor he was quite fit. The corners of her mouth curled into a smile. Normally she wouldn't give much thought to Nara's appearance, having written him off long ago as a pain in the ass. But after dating her way through the stereotypes on the lacrosse team and swimming team and the yearbook committee she couldn't help but find that the smartass lazy Nara had become a little attractive in comparison. Not that it was going to save him in any way, she thought, her smile taking on a vicious edge that earned her a look from Sakura.

"What's on your mind?" the pinkette inquired, eyebrow quirked suspiciously.

"Nothing," she responded, shooting her a devious smile that didn't bode well for whomever she was thinking of. Sakura already pitied Ino's intended victim.

"H-hey guys!"

Turning their heads they saw Hinata approach, smiling as she waved a hand at them in greeting. Instantly their faces lit up, smiling widely at their friend as she hurried towards them, eyes automatically scanning her outfit.

The shy Hyuuga heiress was likely the most pious girl in their entire grade, with the exception of that holier-than-thou bitch Shion they had the misfortune of having in their art class. Her dark blue pleated skirt brushed past her knees, and the pretty, almost sheer blouse was fully buttoned, the obligatory blue ribbon tied around her neck. But she surprised them today by not wearing her cute _(although boringly predictable)_ ballerina flats, instead opting three-inch, _red_ Louboutins, and with a cognac-colored Banana Republic bag dangling in her hold. She had gone about as far she could get in breaking her boundaries without it appearing that she was going through some dramatic life crisis. Well, to anyone who did not know Hiashi Hyuuga. To anyone who _did_ know Hiashi Hyuuga and his ways, they would know Hinata was suffering from some temporary rebellion…or madness, because he surely would have murdered her had he seen these _whorish_ (according to him anyway) pair of heels she currently was sporting. Ino made a low whistle when Hinata reached them, nodding her head appraisingly.

"Damn girl," she said, also taking note of the hint of red on Hinata's lips, "you're looking hot today".

And she did. The shoes gave her longer legs even though most was covered by the unusual length of her skirt, and the added color to her lips made her shed some of that innocence she glowed with, leaving an underlying impression that she was no longer just a girl.

Hinata flushed red, twirling a strand of her dark locks in her fingers nervously.

"Y-you think so?" she asked, silently delighted by the idea that someone would consider her to be hot. Ino was always the attractive one, the sexy, hot, beautiful girl in class that every boy drooled for and followed around like love-sick puppies. Not that _Hinata_ wanted to be followed around like that (she already was, since Kiba easily fit the description of a love-sick puppy dog), but it did boost that shred of confidence she had managed to pick up today when she brushed her lips with the red Louis Vuitton lipstick Ino got for her birthday. Maybe even Naruto would…

She quickly smothered the thought as it surfaced, too familiar with the stab of disappointment when the boy she loved didn't even seem to acknowledge her existence. Instead, she continued to pride her own rebellious streak, or streak of madness, whichever came first. Never before had she purposely gone out of her way to anger her father, knowing the consequences that would follow. But today, she had woken to the lethargic state that had become a permanent fixture in her life since her kaa-san died. And as she sat up in her bed, already mentally running through the events of breakfast; the condescending looks and sharp remarks that left her strangely numb and detached, she decided that feeling _something_ was better than nothing. So she had dug out the most provocative pair of heels in her closet, and painted her lips red before she went down to breakfast.

As every Monday, the council was gathered around her father, sipping green tea and murmuring softly of clan politics while Neji, Hanabi and herself were banned to the far end of the table. They had all been seated by the time she arrived, her palms sweaty and heart hammering. She wavered at the entrance, but the thought of forcing a reaction from her family beyond the scowls and dark looks, was exhilarating. Whatever doubts she had were washed away when her father had looked up from his murmured discussion to scold her for being tardy, and witnessed the expression of utter incredulity that replaced his scowl. And when the rest looked up, in all states of shock, outrage and wild admiration (Kō for one, and oddly, Neji as well), she knew that whatever punishment she'd face was worth it.

"Hell yeah!" Ino exclaimed, looking even more pleased than Hinata felt herself. Her exclaim tore Hinata from her thoughts, and she smiled softly, trying not to seem overzealously pleased with herself.

"You should wear this look more often," Sakura chimed in, nodding her head approvingly. Though definitely not Hinata's pious, almost Pollyanna-esque style, it suited her. Hinata fidgeted under her scrutiny, pleased yet shy with the attention she was garnering.

"Hey!" someone bellowed from afar, interrupting Hinata's little moment of success as they turned to see who called. It was no surprise to see Tenten racing down the pavement, her black Adidas duffel bag bouncing against her hip with each long stride. She had always been tardy, causing her to get on the bad side with every teacher at St. Konoha (with the exception of Gai-sensei, but seeing as he always smiled the girls normally didn't count him in).

Within moments she had reached them, panting under her breath as she wiped her sweat-slicked forehead, leading Sakura to assume she'd overslept and raced the twenty-something blocks between her upscale home to the school gate. She couldn't help but smile at the normalcy of it, when everything else seemed to have shifted. Her fingers convulsively clenched and unclenched her cellphone.

"You're late," Ino announced in mock rage, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot in a perfect imitation of Koharu Utatane when she was scolding students for being late to class or got caught running in the hallways.

Tenten rolled her eyes at Ino's antics, dumping the duffel bag on the ground as she rolled her sore shoulders. It had been a strenuous task to get her ass down to the school grounds before her friends grew tired of waiting for her and leaving her to sit with the freshmen during the welcoming in the auditorium.

"Overslept?" Sakura inquired teasingly, dumping her phone in her bag.

"What does it look like?" Tenten sighed, too familiar with their jests from the numerous occasions she failed to rise with the clock.

"Well, at least this year she came on time," Ino remarked, poking Tenten's shoulder, causing the brunette to scowl. The Yamanaka was not fazed however, and proceeded to make her assessment of Tenten's outfit, either to deem it acceptable or fix it up with the accessories in her bag. She refused to be caught seeing with someone lacking an even remote sense of style, was her defense whenever she fished up a pair of shoes or a belt, despite Tenten's fervent protests and exclaims of rage at the insult. But of the four of them Tenten was the one to be even more predictable than Hinata.

She was the sort of girl who preferred jeans over skirts, making little to no effort to make something out of her school uniform like the rest of the girls. The only thing she normally did was to wear brightly colored sneakers and her father's old blazers. But today was different, for over the drab ensemble she wore a navy pinstriped blazer, secured by a slim, dark brown leather belt. It was every bit perfect for her, and not at all like those ghastly blazers she normally would wear. Ino nodded her head approvingly, something she rarely bestowed upon the tomboy athlete. Tenten was surprised to find her outfit approved by the fashion dictator, and couldn't help but be pleased with herself for it.

But that quickly dwindled when she caught the eye of Neji Hyuuga across the schoolyard, where he was standing with Nara and Inuzuka. That fucking confident smirk of his and the suggestive lingering of his eyes made her cheeks flush red with embarrassment, still vividly recalling the moment they'd had at Taka Nomiya. She'd spent the rest of the weekend trying to convince herself that it was just the surge of hormones and the alcohol that had temporarily left her robbed of her sanity, and telling herself that this would not happen again. But in spite of her own insistence that it was a heat of the moment-thing that had transpired between them (twice now), her heart quickened at his look, the glint that was anything but innocent. And he was directing it towards _her_, instead of one of those airhead bitches he normally would chase after. A tiny warning bell was set off in her head, chiming warningly for her to be cautious. Because why would he suddenly be interested?

She averted her gaze with a small huff, cheeks still rosy from his look, and she caught the curious arch of Sakura's eyebrow. She shrugged her shoulders in response, although knowing Sakura that would not be enough to convince her that nothing was going on. But by the mercy of something divine, the pinkette was quickly distracted from further pondering. Her shoulder tensed and her back straightened, eyes quickly darting back and forth between the gate and the school yard, trying her best not to stare at the bastard Uchiha who strode onto the school grounds as though he was king of it all. Which he was, _sort of_, but considering his royal fuckup at the Red Affair (and she'd heard of the straddling incident too), it would only be proper if he would pass Sakura by humbly. But Uchihas were never humble, incapable of any kind of discretion, simply being stuck-up and arrogant (although she'd admit Itachi wasn't even half as bad as this bratty little prick). Ino too followed the Uchiha with her eyes, a tell-tale glint in her slim blue gaze that promised blood and pain. It was the same look she'd given Sakura's bullies in elementary school, which she still gave Karin whenever she tried to get a rise from the pinkette. They hadn't fared very well afterwards.

Ino, if a little superficial and self-absorbed, loved Sakura more deeply than she probably loved anyone in her own family, and was as a result, terrifyingly protective of her. Some might perceive it as unhealthy, the way she always made sure that no one tried to hurt Sakura, but they had never witnessed Sakura tear out thatches of her pink locks or mumble incoherently in grief, or experienced the utter helplessness they'd felt, knowing there was nothing they could do to console her, soothe her pain, or mend her broken heart. It was much the same with Hinata, although the Hyuuga heiress had never allowed herself to tell them the extent of her miserable family life, or show how deeply the loss of her mother affected her. Tenten's gaze darted to Hinata, first now noticing the brush of red to her lips and the heels she was balancing her tiny feet in, and couldn't help but feel a little wary. To dress this way was something that was drastically out of character for her, and it had only happened once before.

And that had ended badly.

Hinata must have felt her gaze upon her, briefly looking her in the eye before nudging at Sakura's shoulder, asking if they shouldn't head inside and find seats in the auditorium before it became too crowded. Tenten's eyes narrowed a fraction.

She'd have to keep an eye on her today.

Across the yard, Neji had kept a watchful eye on Tenten and her friends since his arrival, partially because he was wary of his cousin's state of mind after the incident at breakfast, and partially because he simply liked what he was seeing. Tenten might not be some fashion goddess of Yamanaka's caliber, but she certainly wasn't looking like her normally ridiculous self in red sneakers and her father's ancient jackets. His gaze trailed the rise of her chest and the curve of her waist, emphasized by a slim belt, and those long, slender legs he'd spent more time fantasizing about in the past four days than he was willing to admit. But what he was willing to admit was the fact that he was attracted to her, and not just physically. And judging by her reaction at the Red Affair, she was, if nothing else, physically attracted to him too. Something he was going to use to his advantage.

"Yo," a voice drawled in greeting. Neji's eyes narrowed as he tore his gaze from Tenten to face Sasuke Uchiha, standing with his hands in his pockets in his normally arrogant posture, chin lifted slightly. Shikamaru muttered a greeting, eyes half-closed and arms crossed as he leaned his back against the brick wall. But his eyes were discreetly fixed on Tenten's group, or more specifically, Yamanaka. Whatever for Neji had no idea, although the downward tilt of his mouth spoke volumes.

"Uchiha," Neji drawled in return, crossing his arms over his chest. The two glared at each other, neither of them prone to forgive their mishaps at the Red Affair. Kiba Inuzuka, their long-time friend and occasionally biggest pain in the ass rolled his eyes at their antics. He was the heir to the respectable Inuzuka clan, and had often been a companion and partner in crime of these boys. He was tall for his age, having sprouted a few inches this summer, with messy brown hair and brown eyes. His most memorable features were his canine teeth and the red fang marks on his cheeks; the symbol all Inuzuka members carried.

Not keen to watch another death-glare-match between the two sworn rivals, he slung a strong arm around Sasuke's shoulders, tugging him roughly along. The Uchiha grunted, trying to swat his arm off, only it to result in a headlock.

"Heard about you and Haruno," Kiba snickered and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Sasuke as he successfully managed to separate himself from the mutt boy's grip. At the mention of the girl he went stiff, eyes narrowing dangerously. But Kiba had never known what was good for him, and continued skirting the edges of his own doom.

"Heard she got you good". The edges of Neji's mouth curled upwards in amusement, whereas Sasuke's gaze sharpened. And if their eyes weren't playing tricks on them, his cheeks gained a little color.

"Careful Kiba," Neji warned him, smirking. "He might kill you for this".

Kiba ignored the playful warning, spurred on by the reaction he garnered, and chose to push it just a little further. He waggled his eyebrows again, lips curling.

"A little too much woman for you, eh?"

He would've gotten himself a pair of cracked ribs hadn't Shikamaru intervened, taking hold of Sasuke's arm before his fist could connect with his torso. The Nara was surprisingly quick on his feet, but he had predicted where this was leading. Combining Kiba's recklessness and Sasuke's quick temper (not to mention that ego the size of the Chūgoku region) normally led to a brawl.

"Cut it out," he told them, eyes narrowed. "Jiraiya-sama will have your asses if you start trouble".

And if not him, then Danzō Shimura would. It wasn't uttered, but they all knew that the old geezer was a little too high and mighty for being a man who was fired from his post for fucking little girls in his office. And he always had it out for Sasuke and his friends. Mainly Naruto, since his father had thwarted his chances of becoming Hokage (like anyone would want a perverted rapist in that position), and Naruto tended to make Danzō the main victim of his pranks.

Speaking of which…

"Where's Naruto?"

* * *

><p>The trouble of being the offspring of successful and famous men and women is that they expect nothing less of their children. That was why they paid hundreds of thousands of yen to get them to the best schools the world had to offer. St. Konoha was one of those schools, and prided on its gilded reputation, and more importantly, on their most ancient rule: St. Konoha had no room for failures. The high standard amongst the students was strictly maintained by the governors of the Leaf Society School Board, most notably three men and women who were now seated in the shadow of the headmaster. They were formally known as Koharu Utatane, Homura Mitokado and Danzō Shimura. In the corridors they were popularly known as the crow (she sounded like one), the electron (Homura was always so negatively charged) and the bitch (well, they needed to call him something since 'mummy' was a dead giveaway). Of course they were unaware of their nicknames, thinking themselves to be in such a position that students wouldn't dare utter a word of contempt towards them.<p>

It was very commonly known that Danzō had to resign from his position after Kenji Haruno had his sexual preferences in young teenage girls exposed to the world. Seven girls pressed charges, but for reasons unknown there was never a trial. Due to the unwavering support of Leaf Society, he had been given a position as governor of the school board, although it was but a mere formality compared to his former position. There had been many a theory amongst the students that Danzō might have ordered the assassination of Kenji Haruno for destroying his life, although it seemed like a shallow reason to killing fifteen men and women. Mostly they were childish speculations, hopeful of his arrest and imprisonment so they wouldn't have to put up with him anymore. But that never stopped them from being utterly disappointed every year when they would enter the large auditorium and find him seated on the podium along with the electron and the crow.

Sakura made a noise of disapproval as she trudged down the rows of seats, arm linked with Ino's. She had never liked that man, finding him to represent everything she had learned to detest; a man who abused his position to gain what he wanted. Kenji had hated his guts, spitting profanities over the kitchen table whenever they thought she wasn't listening, raving about pedophiles and power abusers and mummy-arses to a point that left Sakura's mother beat-red with embarrassment and outrage. Her jiji hadn't fared any better when he learned of his arrest, as Serena was attending St. Konoha when Danzō was headmaster. Coffee cups had been flying across the breakfast room and he'd accused her tou-san of placing his grandchild at the disposal of that bastard _pimp_ (which was ironic since he'd only a week earlier praised the man's success at disciplining the students at St. Konoha).

Sakura couldn't help but feel that his continued presence at school, the support he garnered from Leaf Society, was like spitting on her uncle's grave, and trivializing his efforts to bring corrupted men to justice. He held himself with far too much arrogance and self-righteousness for being a man who had been publically exposed as a pedophile. And then there was the way he looked at her when she passed his cramped office or in the corridor that told her he hadn't forgotten whose niece she was _(though that was a fact made her swell with pride_).

"Why can't he just go join the rest of the mummies and leave us alone?" she whispered to Ino, who shook her head mirthfully.

"They'd kick him right out again," she quipped. "That much ego could give a dead, dry mummy a migraine. Imagine having a sarcophagus right next to him for eternity".

Sakura giggled, drawing a picture of a squirming Danzō being carried off by moaning, groaning mummies as he yelled profanities. That would've made an interesting movie.

"Worse than being a student here," Tenten interjected behind them. The two girls turned their head to look at her, curiously. Hinata was walking silently beside her, trying not to be pushed around by the stream of students.

"Why is that?" Sakura inquired, eyebrow arched.

"We only have three years of torture. Eternity…" she paused for dramatic effect, "that would be purgatory".

"Didn't know you knew so much about purgatory, Himoto," an all too familiar voice drawled. The four of them turned sharply, coming face to face with Neji and his hoard. Sakura went rigid, knowing that _he_ was there although she refused to look at him.

Tenten scowled at the arrogant Hyuuga, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Being around you _is_ purgatory," she deadpanned.

His lips curled at the statement, eyes glinting in challenge.

"Really?" he retorted, eyes skimming her figure. Unable to hide the reaction to that not-so-innocent look in his gaze, she fidgeted. He leaned closer, so only she could properly hear his next words. She held her breath at his close proximity, feeling the silky strands of his hair graze her cheek. "Didn't seem like you were suffering here the other night".

Her cheeks flushed red at the reminder. But she wasn't about to admit defeat to this pompous ass, however fine it was. She puffed up her chest, positively snarling.

"You think too highly of yourself, Hyuu_-ass_!"

Neji went to retort, when Kiba interjected, slinging an arm around his neck. "Enough, turtledoves," he warned, and then, in a lower tone before Neji decided to break his arm: "The mummy is staring". Discreetly the boys peered at the podium, and just as Kiba had warned them of, Shimura was watching them like a hawk.

"Let's sit down, girls," Ino urged, nudging at Sakura. She eagerly followed, tugging Hinata along into one of the rows. Tenten stayed behind a moment longer, throwing one last death glare at Neji before huffing and turning her back to them. Neji's eyes were fixed on her back with poorly concealed interest, something that did not go unnoticed by the rest. But no one bothered teasing him for it. It was after all old news, although the Hyuuga was the last one to realize it. Besides, no one wanted cracked ribs on the first day of school; not to mention being murdered by their enraged mothers because they could no longer perform their duties at the Conservatory Ball. Which by the way was a royal pain in the ass.

"Damn, they're hot," Kiba proclaimed, salaciously staring at their behinds as they maneuvered their way along the row. It earned him a smack over the head by a glowering Neji when his eyes lingered a little too long on Hinata.

"Hey!" he yelled, hand flying to the sore spot at the back of his head as he glared at Neji. He was met by a death glare that made his skin crawl. "What's the matter with you?"

"Lay off my cousin". He commanded, voice calm and hard. His pale eyes bore into Kiba's brown ones with frightening intensity. Ironically, for all his acts of indifference and detestation towards Hinata, he was rather protective. And by rather, Kiba meant _intense_. The last time his gaze had lingered was during lacrosse practice in the courtyard right before the holidays. She'd been sitting with her friends in a quiet corner reading for their last exams, and had looked particularly delicious with naked legs showing under her skirt. The orange rubber ball in Neji's lacrosse stick had in some mysterious way planted itself firmly in his balls moments later. Had the throw been just a little harder he might have turned into a girl on the spot, his masculinity landing somewhere across the lawn.

Anyone with some sense of self-preservation would find it wise to stop checking out Neji Hyuuga's cousin the moment he threatened to tear off their family jewels, but Kiba had never known what was good for him. The only thing he did know was that Hinata Hyuuga had pretty legs and was becoming more and more difficult _not_ to look at.

Neji brushed past him, deciding to take the lead of the group. They followed without protest since Kiba had successfully gotten him into one of his darker moods, but they were all close to making full retreat when the Hyuuga decided to head for the seat next to Himoto. Maybe it was the sexual tension, or he simply wanted to piss of Sasuke for whatever had happened that weekend, but even Kiba thought this was a bad idea.

_Hell_, anyone who had seen Sakura Haruno or Himoto go ninja on a punching bag at Hidan's fitness center, or Ino with pepper spray, would think this was a bad idea. Therefore, being wise (or scared shitless) he seated himself as far away from the girls as possible, on Shikamaru's right. It had been a wise decision he thought, as the four girls leaned forward to get a better look at them, different degrees of incredulousness written on their faces – with the alarming exception being Ino, who just looked plain suspicious. Her forget-me-not eyes were slim and malicious, and for once not directed at him for drunkenly flirting with Hinata. And by the way – why was everyone so bothered because he sort of liked Hinata Hyuuga? It wasn't like he was a serial killer or rapist or anything. That was the sort of thing he left to their creepy former headmaster, who was still watching them suspiciously. Why he would have such great interest in them considering the glaring absence of Naruto he had no idea.

Four seats to his right Tenten had gone rigid where she was sitting crammed between two Hyuugas, trying her hardest not to look at Neji. But Neji, being a Hyuuga, knew she looked at him from the corner of her eye; small flickers she hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Brilliant plan, Hyuuga," Sasuke muttered darkly, distracting him from studying the fiery brunette. The corners of Neji's mouth twitched in self-satisfaction upon seeing Sasuke's almost petulant scowl. "Planning on getting your girlfriend to kick your ass?"

Though Neji didn't mind the girlfriend part in that sentence, although it was as likely as Shimura sprouting wings and a halo, he did mind the being-kicked-in-the-ass-by-a-girl part. Especially since the hostility had been caused by the Uchiha, who was the one who should rightfully be kicked in the ass.

"No, but maybe yours," he retorted in a low whisper so Tenten could not hear and further fuel the girls' suspicion. He turned to face the Uchiha fully, his hand purposely brushing Tenten's naked wrist as he did so. Although he couldn't see her reaction, he heard the soft intake of breath. It brought him an ounce of satisfaction to know he could push her buttons.

The Uchiha subjected to his attention barely bothered to lift his eyes to look at him.

"So what's the plan?" he inquired, casually.

Sasuke's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"What plan?" he asked, cautious.

"How are you gonna make up with Haruno?" Neji elaborated, exasperated, as if there couldn't possibly be anything else he would need a plan for. For a moment they held each other's gazes, Sasuke searching his for any hint of teasing. Then he jutted his chin out like the arrogant brat he was and looked away.

"I'm not," he stated in a casual drawl. It was Neji's eyes that slimmed this time, and even Shikamaru's dark gaze had sharpened.

"What?" he whispered sharply. "The other day we agreed that she can help us".

Sasuke leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've found another lead," he explained, eyes trained on the podium. Neji's eyebrow quirked at that tidbit of information. Clearly he had been left out of something this weekend.

Then Sasuke continued, sullenly: "We don't need her".

"The hell we do!" Shikamaru had moved out of his comfortable position so quickly that Kiba jumped in his seat. The Nara leaned closer, whispering heatedly: "What if it turns out to be a cold trail?"

Sasuke met his gaze through the corner of his eye.

"It won't". He sounded more stubborn than convinced.

"You don't _know_ that," Shikamaru pressed. Then, on a calmer note: "Besides, a witness like Serena Haruno isn't an opportunity you turn down".

Sasuke didn't say anything to oppose it, had difficulty doing so, since he had no argument that would sound convincing enough even for himself. Truth was that although he knew the Harunos were a rare trump card, he hadn't exactly trumped them. More like royally fucking it up _(although he _had_ been ambushed and unprepared)_, and while he considered it to be beneath him to run away from a confrontation _(he was an Uchiha after all)_, he'd rather prefer avoiding _this_ particular confrontation. It was after all he who was at fault and it would be beneath his dignity to apologize for it (which was undoubtedly what Sakura Haruno would expect and demand).

"If he hasn't already," Neji muttered darkly, tearing Sasuke from his thoughts. He threw him an inquiring look.

"Girls don't forgive and forget," he elaborated. And he should certainly know. Tenten still had a hard time forgiving his rejection of her in elementary. He crossed his arms and gave Sasuke a dark look.

"Especially not when you throw out idiotic comments like that".

"Shut up". Sasuke crossed his arms over his chest, not very pleased to be reminded of his little misstep. Or royal fuckup, depending on who you asked.

Neji was not impressed.

"Well, it's true," he pressed on. "Unless you apologize, _and that fast_, she'll be bearing a grudge against you for the rest of your life, and you can kiss goodbye to any form of cooperation".

"Tch".

"Seriously," Shikamaru butted in, all resemblance of calm and patience gone. His face was hard and eyes sharp as daggers as Sasuke met his gaze, who was rather surprised by his intensity. Rarely did they ever see Shikamaru care for anything other than cloud watching and smoking.

"Don't fuck this up". An even rarer command left his mouth, giving no room for protest or for failure. It resembled his mother's orders: '_Don't be late for school'_, '_don't speak in that tone young man'_ and '_you better keep your weenie in your pants unless you wish it permanently removed!'_

"You wanna know what happened right?" he continued, pushing his buttons.

Sasuke said nothing, allowing the silence to be answer enough.

"There is no one in this goddamn city who could better tell you that than Serena Haruno". They'd been over this before. She wasn't married, didn't have any boyfriend, and hence shared no ties to the other families that could cause a hindrance for her to tell her side of the story. Not to mention she'd been eighteen at the time (too young to be a killer), nearly been shot twice and therefore was not on their list of suspects. Everyone else on the guest list had in some way been implicated. The only exception was her. And it was their luck that she was a Haruno, of the clan at the center of this vortex of intrigues. She _had_ to know something that could help them.

"And since she's not dating your brother there's no loyalty that keeps her from telling the truth," Neji added.

Sasuke remained silent, unwilling to admit defeat.

So the Hyuuga decided to pull out the big guns.

"You're not the only one wanting answers," he reminded him firmly. Sasuke met his gaze; saw the hatred and anger of loss that often were reflected in his own. They'd both lost someone dear to them that night, and while Sasuke considered his own loss significantly greater in numbers, they both shared the same pain, and both deserved answers.

"But you're the only one who might get them from her," Neji continued, using his last trump card. The words struck a chord with Sasuke, who shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Hyuuga had a point, even though he was a right pain in the ass. Serena Haruno was an important lead, though he might very well have ruined their chances at finding out what she knew.

_Since when did Uchihas give up?_

He could almost hear his father, the arrogant tilt as he spoke. The demeaning look he'd give him, had he heard his thoughts. The harsh reminders that would have followed; reminders of what clan he was reared in. A clan of steel and fire, of conquerors and warriors. They were the descendants of the men who had first come to Konoha, wrenching the land from the hands of the Hyuugas. They were one of the four founding families that built Konoha from the ground with sweat and blood and steel, and founders and patrons of the Konoha Metropolitan Police Department. They were the descendants of Madara the First, the godlike clan leader who had battled against Hashirama Senju, both for the title of Hokage, and later for the control of Konoha.

He was the grandson of Superintendent General Yashiro Uchiha, firstborn son of Madara the First. He was the son and heir of Fugaku Uchiha, who made Uchiha Corporations one of the largest corporations in Japan, and he was the nephew of Madara Uchiha the Second, Superintendent General and future Hokage.

They were men of power. Absolute power.

_Uchihas don't cry_, Madara once lectured him. _Uchihas never yield_, his father told him.

And Uchihas _never give up_.

Certainly not on the path of revenge that he was currently walking.

"Fine," he caved in. Neji barely kept from smirking triumphantly. "I'll think of something".

There had to be a way to enlist Sakura Haruno's help. And thinking of it, there was another way of approach that could very well give him what he wanted. Discreetly he glanced at said Haruno from the corner of his eye. She was whispering to Ino, sometimes throwing suspicious looks in their direction.

"I suggest you do something before this day is over," Neji continued. He gave a slight nod in response, a hint of determination at the downward tilt of his mouth.

"Yamanaka is on our trail, by the way," Shikamaru commented lightly, having gone back to reclining in his seat, arms supporting his neck. The two of them peered curiously at Nara, eyebrows quirked in disbelief.

"Barbie?" Sasuke said, scoffing. "Come on".

"She's not stupid, just so you know," Shikamaru retorted, straightening up. He ignored their looks, leaning his elbows on his knees, hands entwined. "And she's convinced that you want something from Sakura".

"How does she know that?" Neji demanded to know, eyes slim with accusation. "Did you tell her?"

"_No,_" he made an indignant noise, eyes glinting. Neji was surprised by the intensity of his gaze, not accustomed to Shikamaru putting an effort into anything; certainly not glaring. But neither was he willing to relent, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat, eyes sweeping his face for the signs of deception.

"Well, you looked rather cozy in that hallway," he stated casually.

Despite himself, Shikamaru felt his cheeks flush red. He could still vividly recall pretty blue eyes and sweet perfume and red-painted fingernails playing with the collar of his shirt. It bothered him that she had so effortlessly made him stumble in his resolution not to give anything away, and even more so that he, supposed genius, had underestimated her. Sasuke, or Neji could rightfully dismiss her as a blonde Barbie doll heiress, but Shikamaru had known her since diapers. And he, above everyone in their group, should've known better than think that she wouldn't suspect something. Or used her seduction tactics to extort information, although this was the first time he had been subjected to it, (_and he would be lying if he said he hadn't fallen for it_). But that wasn't something he was willing to admit to anyone but himself.

He made a show to scoff at Neji's statement.

"If cozy means the mouse cornered by the cat, then yes," he muttered darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. Neji quirked a brow at him.

"Didn't know you considered yourself a mouse, Nara".

_Oh_, he had no idea.

"With her I sure do". And with his mother. And with his grandmother. And Temari on occassion, but that was something he refused to revisit. Bottom line was that nearly every woman he had in his life terrified him. _It's the curse of Nara men to fall for strong-minded women_, his father sometimes said, when he once more asked him why on earth he had married someone as scary and bossy as Yoshino. But while he had learned to be cautious around these females (particularly his mother), he had failed to be so with Ino Yamanaka, who at present, was a little too close to the truth about Sasuke's intentions for anyone to be comfortable with it.

"Be careful with her," he warned, and then as an afterthought: "- _and_ Himoto".

Ino might be more terrifying, but Tenten Himoto presented an equally big obstacle. And after the disaster of the Red Affair he wouldn't be surprised if he came across her strangling Sasuke in the locker rooms for hurting her friend. The two of them were rather protective of the Haruno, which would not be working to their advantage.

"I'll deal with Himoto," Neji conceded, agreeing with Shikamaru's warning. All four girls, including his cousin, were looking a little too suspicious for this to be running smoothly. It would be easier to get to Sakura if her watchdogs were a little more…occupied. His lips twitched.

He looked at Shikamaru, gaze hard. "You deal with Yamanaka".

It was a command, spoken with finality; refusing to listen to protests. That didn't mean, however, that Shikamaru didn't try.

"Forget it," he snapped, gaze sharp.

"You want answers right?" Sasuke spoke, catching the Nara by surprise. He was looking at the podium, arms crossed; an arrogant tilt to his mouth as he spoke. Shikamaru scowled, allowing his silence to be answer enough.

Sasuke's lips curled ever-so-slightly.

"Then I suggest you keep her nose out of this".

Shikamaru wasn't happy. Not at all. Placing himself in the way of Ino Yamanaka was a _bad_ idea. That was like begging for misery. And he liked his less-than-miserable existence.

"_Because your life will be considerably easier if you do,"_ had been her promise, her threat, lips curling viciously as she spoke. He knew enough of her previous victims to know she would go through with her threat.

Bad, _bad_ idea.

"Mendokusē," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. Neji and Sasuke watched him expectantly, and he knew there was no way out of this one. He shouldn't have opened his big mouth in the first place. "Fine," he gave in, sighing.

Five seats away, Ino and Sakura were eyeing them suspiciously.

"What the fuck are they up to?" Ino whispered heatedly as she assessed the boys, gaze slim with suspicion. As if the sit-down they'd had at the Red Affair wasn't bad enough, the boys chose to sit down with them again here? Either they had a death wish or they _really_ wanted something.

"I have no idea," Sakura replied, shaking her head softly. She had long since given up making sense of what the hell had happened. The only thing she did know was that she wanted to stay as far away from Sasuke Uchiha as possible.

"I'm gonna find out," Ino assured her, such conviction in her tone that Sakura gave her a curious look. But the blonde didn't notice, too busy glaring viciously at Shikamaru Nara – for whatever reason she had no idea. One of the many things she didn't understand, she supposed.

"Be my guest," she said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. She turned to look at Hinata, whose gaze was flickering back and forth in the crowd above and below.

"Hinata?" she inquired softly, causing her to abruptly stop her search. "What is it?"

"I-I was just wondering where…Naruto was," she admitted softly, heat rising to her cheeks as she uttered his name. Sakura barely refrained from rolling her eyes. _Of course_ she'd be searching for Naruto. But…

"That's odd," she whispered, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I think it's the first time I've seen him not attached to Sasuke by the hip". Despite Sasuke's apparent indifference and constant demeaning of Naruto, the two had been closer than brothers since early childhood, and rarely were they separated. Certainly not on the first day of school, when the group made a show of nonchalance and aloofness to awe the rest of the students.

"Maybe he's out pranking again," Ino suggested. "Remember last time?"

Sakura couldn't contain a smile.

"Yes," she responded. "My eardrums exploded".

It had been the second or third week into the fall semester when Naruto was conspicuously absent during Koharu Utatane's class in one of the lecture halls. His absence was explained half-through the class when a stink bomb was set off right in Koharu's face; one of three he'd set off on the school that day. The other victims had been Danzō and Iruka-sensei (the latter by accident, as the bomb had been intended for Homura Mitokado). Koharu had let out a high-pitched scream as the horrid odor of rotting eggs stuck to her skin, leaving her students half-deaf for a week.

The three of them giggled at recollecting Koharu's outraged expression, but were quickly hushed by Tenten, who pinted at the podium. Turning, they saw that their headmaster had arrived, sauntering up the stairs to the stage. A thunder of clapping and cheering erupted, which he responded to with waving and thank you's and wide grins. The students hushed down when he approached the lectern at the edge of the podium. He was a towering man, broad-shouldered and chiseled beneath a demure black suit, with a mane of stark white hair. Though from a distance he looked like a man not to be trifled with, no one was fooled by his laidback gait and lack of an iron rod sticking up his ass like the ancient geezers seated on the podium behind him. He was unconcerned, unceremonious, and criminally unpretentious, although he made up for the last with his otherwise lecherous behavior.

But then again he was of a different background than his predecessors, including the perverted mummy currently glaring holes in his back. He had been Hiruzen Sarutobi's foster son since childhood, and been part of the Legendary Three – himself, Orochimaru Sannin and Tsunade Senju. They had graduated St. Konoha as top students, been poster boys and girl for the school since, but Jiraiya was the only one who still was permanently living in Konoha. He had been a successful military man, traveled the world with a notepad, was currently a successful closet writer and had been the mentor of their current Hokage – Minato Namikaze. Not to mention being the proud godfather of Naruto Namikaze, although he'd given him a lot of reasons _not_ to be proud of him. Well, with the exception of the pranks he pulled on Danzō, since he detested the man – along with all of his students. Which might be the main reason why he was so popular.

Hence the good mood as he began his welcoming speech. He paused for a moment, tapping a finger against the microphone. The sound reverberated through the loud speakers.

"Governors", he began, turning to flash a charming smile at the school governors, twelve in number, before turning back to the crowd, "dear colleagues", a nod to the front row, "dear students", his sharp, dark gaze swept the crowd, "it is with a great sense of honor that I wish you all welcome to a new year at St. Konoha Academy". He had a warm, booming voice, much different from the senseless droning they were used to at ceremonial speeches. It encouraged loud claps and whistles from the crowd. When they quieted down he continued:

"It is an even greater honor, because it is the tenth welcoming speech I've held as headmaster", another bout of clapping, a few loud exclaims of _'better be another ten years too!'_ ,"and so I must thank you all for not wanting to get rid of me yet" soft laughter, "– unless the governors wish an input here". The laughter bounced off the walls, fueled by the dark looks he was given from the electron, the crow and the bitch. When there came no protest the headmaster made a theatrical sigh of relief.

"Well that's a relief," more laughter, "because I am proud of being headmaster of this school. A school with traditions and traditional values, where we respect our elders and our peers, and our students are committed and strive for excellence in achievement. But St. Konoha is first and foremost…"

There was a loud bang as the door behind the podium was nearly thrown off its hinges, and one knucklehead blonde came flying through like a missile. Clearly he had mistaken the door for being the other backdoor; tucked away in the shadowy corner left for the podium (_how in Kami's name he'd managed to mistake those two was beyond most_). It was just his luck that he'd stumbled in the threshold and in an attempt at keeping himself on his feet had gone scrambling across the podium (_miraculously missing the governors_) – and of course, crashed right into the headmaster. And then the both of them proceeded to tumble off the podium in a heap of limbs and the audience let out a gasp of horror. Cellphones had been whipped out to record everything, to be loaded up to commemorate the tenth welcoming speech of Jiraiya-sama. Sasuke and Shikamaru sank as low in their seats as they could, pinching the bridge of their noses in despair and exasperation. Kiba bit down on his fist so he wouldn't break into a fit of laughter, and Hinata had covered her mouth in utter horror. Everyone else remained frozen.

A deafening silence followed, as a dazed Naruto and his godfather processed what had just occurrence. It only took seconds before Jiraiya's mounting temper reached its boiling point, and with a roar that could have woken the dead he hauled the petrified boy to his feet:

"NARUTO NAMIKAZE!"

Above the spectacle, Ino looked sideways at Sakura.

"Well", she whispered, lips twitching uncontrollably, "that explains his absence".

* * *

><p>Haruno Complex<p>

After Sakura's departure Serena had set at the task of re-painting the guestrooms. She wanted to make the transition between Paris and Konoha for the twins as easy as possible, even if it just was by making their rooms ready in their (rather specific) color schemes. Thankfully she had the help of a nice old man at the paint store who had every color chart embedded in his head. Somewhere halfway through the second wall of Keira's bedroom Konan had shown up on her doorstep, bearing peace offerings in the shape of a bottle of Barolo and cheese crackers with cheddar cheese. The two of them hadn't spoken since the unpleasant ambush at Taka Nomiya, although Konan had tried to call her about twenty times in the last 72 hours.

Normally Serena would have let her friend suffer a little longer, not at all happy that she would go behind her back on such a sensitive matter as Itachi Uchiha. But since she was a sucker for cheese crackers with cheese and midday glasses of wine while doing the strenuous task of redecorating the guestrooms, she had forgiven her. On the term that she assisted in the strenuous task of course.

Though Konan despised these things after the gruesome trial of setting up Taka Nomiya (which was a traumatizing experience), she was bordering on desperation to have Serena forgive her. So she reluctantly agreed to help. So somewhere on the second glass of wine and the third wall in Luke's intended bedroom everything was back to normal between them.

Well, before the doorbell rang.

Serena threw a curious look at the open door of Luke's bedroom, silently wondering who would be seeking her out at this time of day. She locked eyes with Konan as she put the paintbrush in the bucket, wiping her hands on the legs of her old, washed-out jeans. Konan, looking like a hot mess with paint on her arms and donning the old, tattered shirt she'd borrowed, shrugged her shoulders at the questioning stare. Without a word between them the dark-haired Haruno left the room, the doorbell ringing once more as she reached the living room. She wondered if it was Deidara, or Sasori, or both of them, or perhaps Hidan coming to raid her kitchen cabinets as he had the habit of doing. Hoped for the love of Kami that it wasn't Itachi, or Madara, but steeled herself against the possibility that one of them might be on the other side of the door.

Nothing, however, prepared her for who was standing impatiently in her hallway.

Sayuri Himoto looked as impeccably perfect as always, a vision in a red trench coat with glossy golden curls cascading down her back. A sunkissed face, with classical features and pretty blue eyes, stared back at her haughtily, the corners of red-painted lips (_war paint_, Serena thought absently) curling into a sneer.

Serena supposed she should have seen it coming. With Kurenai's loyalty firmly planted on Sayuri's side, she must have known of the incident in the alley that same night. And Sayuri was not one to demurely stand by as someone attempted to steal the man she perceived as hers away from her. Her red, figurative claws were unsheathed and fangs bared like a hungry mountain cat. Serena had expected that. But she hadn't expected that Sayuri would have the gall to seek her out in her own home.

She'd give her credit for catching her off-guard.

"Sayuri?" she inquired softly, not quite comprehending that her seemingly eternal nemesis was standing in front of her like a red amazon warrior.

Well, that's a first.

A new twist to the ever-evolving rivalry between them.

Funny they'd been friends once. In a time long before the chaos had entered her life, in a different age when the only things she'd cared for were Itachi, intrigue and champagne. Before Sayuri's first betrayal, fueled by bone-deep jealousy. It had been the birth of a bitter rivalry. Serena had always landed on top, debutante of the season, Miss Konoha, dancing the solo in their ballet performance, and winning the boy of her dreams. Funny how things could change. It seemed that Sayuri was on top now, a successful PR-agent, engaged to the man of her dreams. Still taller than her, more beautiful than ever.

Too bad she wasn't in the competition anymore, even though Sayuri had difficulty believing that.

"Serena," the golden beauty drawled, nonchalantly breezing past her into the apartment as if she had every right to do so. For a moment Serena stood frozen in the doorway, a look of utter disbelief on her face. She felt her pulse quicken, fingers flexing against the handle.

How _dare_ she…

"A pretty place you've got here," Sayuri continued as she inspected the kitchen area in such a manner that even a deaf man would know she didn't think it at all pretty. A finger brushed across the cool granite of the counter, rubbing at invisible dust with an expression of distaste marring her pretty face.

Calmly the Haruno shut the door, slowly turning to face Sayuri, who continued into the living room area. It was on the tip of her tongue that she better get her ass out of her house before she wiped the floor with it and tossed it down the stairs like yesterday's trash, but she reigned her temper. This was all a game, a play of theatrical expressions and veiled words, just like when they were teenagers. Sayuri might be ten years older, but she hadn't outgrown them. And in some ways, Serena hadn't either.

She noticed a flash of blue as Konan had reeled back into the corridor, out of view from their unexpected guest. Just as well.

"What is it that you want?" she asked Sayuri, throwing courtesy to the wind as she pinned the blonde woman down with hard green eyes.

Sayuri didn't even blink, feeling so self-righteous in the aftermath of Serena's not-so-innocent kiss that she seated herself on the couch, crossing her legs as if she were attending one of her mother's tea parties. Serena said nothing, simply watching her apprehensively. Her hands were placed on her hips as she waited for an answer, fingers twitching. Tempted to unsheathe her own claws, however chipped from work they were.

"A little bird told me you are back for good," the cobra drawled, studying her red fingernails as if she was discussing the weather. Blue, piercing eyes met Serena's unwavering green, narrow and malicious like the animal she was often compared to.

"Is this true?" she demanded to know, her voice sharp.

"Yes, it is true," Serena responded, eyes slimming. While she might have overstepped the boundary, it was no business of Sayuri to be demanding to know if she was staying in the city. Konoha was her home as much as it was Sayuri's, and she hadn't been running about demanding to know if Sayuri was staying after she returned to Konoha three years ago; and accompanied Itachi to the Uchiha Corporations Dinner.

Sayuri made a noise, something akin to a pensive '_hm'_, low and deliberate.

"Odd," she said then, still studying her nails, a crease between perfectly shaped eyebrows.

Serena's eyes narrowed a fraction, glinting with steel.

"Pardon me?" she inquired, soft, low, challenging. Simply _daring_ her.

Sayuri noticed, knew the tone well. Had been on the receiving end of that challenge many times throughout their childhood and teenage years when she had been the one expected to keep her hands off of Itachi. But the tables were turned now, and she responded in kind.

"I find it a little odd that you would think to move back just months before my wedding," caution was thrown to the wind as she spoke up, voice accusatory, filled with an unwavering conviction. Her eyes met Serena's, sharp, predatory, as she searched for a reaction. To get the satisfaction of seeing through Serena's scheme.

"You think I'm back for Itachi?" It didn't take a genius to understand what Sayuri was referring to, but she still found herself surprised at what Sayuri was insinuating. Though she supposed it was credible that she would return to seek a last chance with her lover before he tied the knot to positively the worst woman in Japan, and in a way she had been seeking something in the alleyway – just not for a fucking wedding ring. Answers, yes, because she damn well deserved some, but would she degrade herself into being some lowlife home wrecker dead set on getting the man she wanted?

After what he had done?

Not in ten lifetimes.

The incredulousness she felt at the accusation showed through, and for a moment Sayuri was caught off-guard. But she was quick to convince herself that Serena was playing one of her mind games, pretending to be innocence itself while secretly plotting the downfall of her wedding.

"The thought has struck me, yes," she drawled, rising from the couch with a flair of nonchalance. With two quick strides she was in Serena's face, rising two inches over her, much to her opponent's dismay.

"And after I was told of your little…" she wrinkled her nose as if smelling something disgusting, "_indiscretion_ at that dingy little club, I think it was finally confirmed".

There was a silence, Sayuri watching her expectantly, waiting for her to break down and confess. But Serena never did what people expected of her, and her lips curled into a wry smile that shifted the situation. The ambassador's daughter watched; unsettled, disliking her expression.

"Think all you want, Sayuri," was the dark beauty's retort, something positively _vicious_ moving beneath the surface of her gaze. Predatory. "It still won't make it true".

Sayuri faltered once more, unprepared for the force in her gaze, the conviction in her words. It was not enough, however, to convince her that she spoke the truth. Serena had always been good at word games, and she had _always_ loved Itachi. She squared her shoulders, and made a show to lean down to Serena's eye level as she spoke, their noses almost touching.

"Stay away from him, if you know what's good for you".

Serena's lips parted slightly, incredulity in her gaze.

"Are you _threatening_ me?"

Sayuri's chin tilted a little higher. "Consider it a fair warning".

The incredulity melted away to a smile that could cut through rock, so tight at the edges that she was close to snarling. Emerald eyes glinted with steel, sharp, cruel.

"You grew yourself some balls since the last time we met," Serena commented softly, casually, as if stating that the sun was shining. She took an abrupt step closer. Instinctively Sayuri withdrew.

"Tell me", she demanded, sweet tone laced with poison, "is that because you've taken the role as the man in your relationship, or is it that he simply doesn't care that much about you?"

Sayuri sputtered in outrage, blood rising to her cheeks.

"Excuse me?"

Serena quelled the sense of triumph before it showed through. Oh, years might have passed, but she still knew how to push Sayuri Himoto's buttons.

"You seem a little too concerned with keeping your claws buried in him considering his _great_ love for you," she continued, delicately stressing the word. Another edge to her smile. "He can't love you that much if you're so convinced he'll come running to me".

The reaction she garnered was the same as in high school. She was in her face in an instance, teeth showing through a feral snarl. Her skin was splotched red, eyes burning with rage. Serena's lips twitched, the adrenaline rush of victory rushing through her.

_So_ predictable.

"Watch the next words that come out of your mouth, Serena _darling,_" she seethed in warning, her tone as poisonous as the animal she was compared to. Then her lips curled, eyes glazed with malice. For once, Serena was surprised.

"Or mine might just _slip_ a little secret to him".

_Secret_?

Her brow furrowed in confusion. Then she theatrically quirked an eyebrow, eyes a fraction slimmer.

"What sort of dirty little secret is it that you have deluded yourself into believing you can use against me?" she demanded to know, not at all convinced of Sayuri's claim. Sometimes she simply lived up to her blonde hair roots by spewing things out. Like that time in Mrs. Utatane's class after the London scandal, and when she'd claimed that Itachi loved her.

Sayuri smiled poisonously, triumph glinting in her periwinkle gaze.

"A secret that only you, me and Madara Uchiha know of".

That was a second time she'd been surprised today. Her heart skipped a beat, and suddenly she felt cold. Her stomach twisted, a familiar feeling of nausea rising in her throat. Her reaction must have showed, for Sayuri's smile widened.

"What, did I hit a nerve?" she inquired, sweetly. Then, in a harder tone: "I'll tell him. He'll never forgive you for it".

Her fingers flexed once more. Blood pounded in her ears, and for a moment, lightheadedness took over, the color leaving her face. But it gave way for anger. Calmly she straightened her back, eyes dark as ink. Her hands fell to her sides, claws unsheathed, her mouth a tight line.

No more playing games.

"I don't respond well to threats, Sayuri," she told her softly, evenly, not willing to give her the satisfaction of a quivering voice, or the spark of temper that would confirm her claim. Her eyes were hard, cold, like iron. Unyielding.

A dangerous look.

Not for the first time, Sayuri was unsettled. But she wasn't willing to back off. This was something she wouldn't - _couldn't_ walk away from. Not if she wanted her happiness. Not if she wanted to keep him.

"Stay away from Itachi", she commanded, "and your secret is safe".

Silence.

Something simmered beneath the surface, crawling in her skin. Her heart was pounding, threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Sayuri mistook her silence for defeat, and strode past her, head held high, a smile on her red-painted lips that was almost euphoric.

But she'd forgotten an important lesson, one her father had taught her. You don't control the Harunos. The Harunos control you.

"Threaten me again, Sayuri", Serena warned, causing her to halt, turn back to face her, "and you will learns the extent of what it means to cross a Haruno".

There was promise in her words.

_Dark_ promise.

She was frozen, unprepared.

Wryly, Serena thought jiji would've been proud. Uncle Kenji would've turned in his grave.

Sayuri smiled sharply, but her lips quivered slightly.

"Then we have an agreement".

Serena didn't bother to protest.

"I'll find my own way out".

Her heels clicked against the wooden floors, reverberated on the walls. Serena watched her, the golden curls bouncing with each step she took. Sayuri didn't look back when she opened the door, confident of her hold.

Once she disappeared from sight, Serena crouched down, face in her hands. She let out a noise of frustration, something between a sigh and a growl. When she looked up, Konan was there, face pale with barely suppressed emotion. Worry, anger, but mostly worry.

"She knows?" she asked, tentatively, as though she would break down if she spoke too loudly. With a deep sigh she straightened up, brushing a hand through her tangled locks. It shook slightly.

Konan noticed.

"Apparently she does," she answered, resignation in her tone. She turned away, pinching the bridge of her nose. Konan placed a hand on her shoulder, nudging her to turn. There was urgency in her gaze.

"You _have_ to tell him".

"No". "here was that resignation again.

"She'll tell him eventually," Konan pressed on. "You know how she is. She'll do it on a whim to make herself look better".

"What does it matter if she tells?" Serena turned to face her friend, eyes glassy. She met her gaze, held it steadily. "I don't _owe_ him anything".

"_Yes, you do_!" Konan exclaimed sharply, taking her by surprise. "You owe it to him to be honest. He deserves to hear this from you, not from that _snake_!"

Serena's gaze sharpened considerably, unable to conceal the spark of temper.

"I don't owe him _anything_, Konan". Her words were unusually harsh, final. Normally Konan would protest, fight to make her friend hold onto the last shreds of what she felt for Itachi. But she knew that wasn't fair, nor would she get through to her this way. Not when her eyes were like that, black and resigned. Instead she took a new route.

"What was that _indiscretion_ she was talking about?"

She stiffened, caught off guard. Suddenly she became very interested in a peck of dust on the window pane. Konan watched her expectantly, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for an answer. In many ways she reminded her of her mother that way, pouncing on her when she came home an hour later than expected. And that made it a lot harder to admit to her little…_indiscretion_.

Inwardly she scoffed.

"I…" she paused at the inquiring arch of Konan's eyebrow, feeling morbidly like her sixteen year old self, "kind of kissed him".

Konan's eyebrows disappeared above her hairline.

"You _kissed_ him?" she repeated, incredulous. Clearly she hadn't expected that, despite all her efforts to push them towards each other. She supposed she wasn't surprised that Serena would've kissed him, but she would never have thought that Itachi would allow her to do so. He was if nothing else, rigidly loyal towards his bride.

"What, like a peck?" she asked, although they both knew Serena wasn't one for innocent kisses. But she was trying to wrap her head around this unexpected turn of events, and needed confirmation.

The arch of Serena's eyebrow said it all.

"Anything _but_ a peck," was the response, delivered with something of a quirked smile. Or a half-hearted grimace. Konan rooted for the first.

"Did he…kiss you back?" she knew she must have sounded like a giggling teenager, trying to get the juicy details from her BFF, but frankly she couldn't care less. This was what they had all been waiting for the last ten years, and Serena wasn't going to keep the story from her. This was what they had all been waiting for the past ten years, and Serena wasn't going to keep the details from her.

Serena sighed and seated herself on the couch, leaning herself on her elbows. No smile, no childish triumph, no guilt. Only a strange form of melancholy.

"Yes".

Konan stared, hope swelling despite herself. Despite knowing they were both stubborn mules and one was set to be married, and the other wasn't about to yield to anything until she had gotten the answers she wanted. Answers Itachi had always been reluctant to give, if he had told them anything at all. But even with the right answers, Konan wasn't sure if it could fix the rift between them, heal the wounds. She looked down at Serena, back and shoulders bent as she stared at the floor, lower lip between her teeth. Slowly she approached, sliding down on the couch beside her, snaking an arm around her shoulders, hand squeezing lightly.

"Why did you do it?" she inquired, softly.

"I needed to confirm something". She turned her head sideways to meet her gaze, smiling bitterly.

"Confirm what?"

She looked away, out of the windows. Konan knew the look well, the yearning for the past, the bone-deep melancholy. It wasn't healthy, it wasn't good for her, but she knew she could do nothing to make it stop. It had become a part of her, a festering disease grown from years of repressed emotion, years of struggle, not being able to rely on others as before. She handled it most of the time, kept the darker tendrils of depression from consuming her. But even when pushing forward, keep going, there were those times when she would turn back and long for an easier life.

Konan couldn't blame her.

But she still worried.

After a moment Serena turned back to face her, eyes glazed.

"I needed to know whether or not Itachi is still in him somewhere".

Konan paused. Squeezed her shoulder once more.

"And was he?"

Serena offered her a smile; a melancholy one.

She wiped away the sting of salt beneath her eye with her thumb. Her lips quivered.

"Sadly, yes".

* * *

><p><strong>Characters<strong>:

Fū Yamanaka - in the canon series he was a member of the organization Root, and accompanied Danzō to the Kage Summit. He was later killed by Madara/Tobi. He is also said to be a member of the Yamanaka clan. In my story he is the middle child, younger than Inoichi, and older than Santa Yamanaka. He is therefore Ino's uncle, and works as an attorney.

Yashiro Uchiha – in the canon series he was a member of the Uchiha clan and part of Konoha Military Police Force. He was one of the men who confronted Itachi about Shisui Uchiha's apparent suicide. In this story he is Sasuke's grandfather and the father of Fugaku and Madara Uchiha, and also the Superintendent General of Konoha Metropolitan Police Force.

Madara the First – he was head of the Uchiha clan a century ago, and is the great-grandfather of Sasuke and Itachi.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations<strong>

Japanese:

Obaa-san – grandmother

Jiji – grandfather

Kaa-san – mother

Tou-san – father

Gyokuro – or Jade Dew, is a fine and expensive type of shaded green tea from Japan. Jade Dew refers to the pale green color of the infusion. It has a rise of sweet flavor to it.

Imouto – little sister

Ryokan – is a traditional Japanese inn that originated from the Edo period, when such inns served travelers along the highways.

Sentō - is a type of Japanese communal bath house where customers pay for entrance

French:

Guimauves – marshmallows

* * *

><p><strong>Events:<strong>

Midwinter's Eve Festival – a fictional festival held on the 21st of December, celebrating midwinter. It is hosted on the old market place in Old Konoha, the most ancient part of Konoha.

* * *

><p>AN: First, I have to say I'm really sorry that I haven't updated in a while! Life has been really hectic with exams and studying, and I've had a case of minor writer's block that made it difficult for me to finish this chapter. But now it's finally done, and I'm currently writing the next two chapters, which hopefully will be finished soon. However I don't want to make any promises, in case my muse decides to leave me again. But despite the long wait I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There wasn't as much action in this one, aside from the showdown between Sayuri and Serena at the end, and of course, Naruto's entrance. This chapter establishes a lot more backstory, such as the Uchihas, their relations to the Haruno family, and the relationships between some of the characters, but there will be more action _(and romance, finally!) _in the next few chapters.

And thank you so much for your reviews of the previous chapter, LilyVampire, , alayneni, Luka1Sakura, missjewels and lauchoco92!

To LilyVampire – thank you for reviewing again! I'm happy you liked the previous chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one as well.

To – thank you so much for your review! I'm happy that you like my story, and hope you enjoyed this chapter.

To alayneni – thank you for reviewing. I'm always happy to see old reviewers! I'm glad you think it's an improvement; otherwise it wouldn't have been worth rewriting. Also happy that you like the text messages and the InoShika part (as an avid fan of the pairing I try my very best). Hope you liked this chapter as well, and hope to see you reviewing again.

To Luka1Sakura – thank you for reviewing, and I'm happy that you think it's better than the original (that proves that my hard work is worth it). Hope you liked this chapter as well, despite the late update, and that you'll review again!

To missjewels – thank you so much for reviewing again and I'm happy that you liked the previous chapter! Yes, Serena and Itachi's relationship is very intense considering their age, something that will be explored further soon. I'm glad that you think my portrayal of Madara is good, and I can promise you that some of his background and his interest in Serena will be revealed within the next two chapters. As for Sakura character, her innocence and naivety is a result of her sheltered upbringing as you pointed out, but she'll likely be displaying some that Haruno wileyness soon (after all, Serena _is_ her mentor). Konoha is an ominous place, as a result of secrecy and deception, but you are correct that Sakura and all the other teenagers live in a bubble world, unaware of what really goes on.

I'm glad that you pointed out Sakura's crush on Kenji, and that you thought it was cute. I actually had a crush on a relative (_very distant though)_ when I attended a wedding as a child, and thought it would be a nice addition to the story. Also thank you for pointing out that school in Japan starts in spring, not autumn. I am aware that it differs greatly from schools in the Western world, but I likely won't make any changes to what I've already written (_also I find it easier to handle the timeline when school starts in autumn_). I do hope you liked this chapter, and that you'll be reviewing again soon ;)!

To lauchoco92 – thank you so much for reviewing! I'm so happy that you like my story, and that you are already making your own theories about whom the mystery man is. I hope you liked this chapter as well, and that you'll review again .

And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!

Yours truly

Kasumi Ayane


	8. History

**History**

_Indeed, history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes. _

- Voltaire

* * *

><p>St. Konoha Academy<p>

_17th of August _

After the dramatic entrance of one Naruto Namikaze, who found himself dragged off by their fuming headmaster, to hell with tenth annual speech and all, they had been left at the mercy of Danzō. The mummy had nonchalantly taken the microphone, picking off where Jiraiya had been so unexpectedly interrupted.

"As our headmaster said", he drawled, "St. Konoha is first and foremost a school that does not accept failure".

Well, almost.

And after another twenty _(gruesome) _minutes at his mercy, being constantly reminded of the repercussions of not meeting the standards of St. Konoha _(greatly exaggerated_), they trotted their way through the corridors towards the administration for their schedules, and then to their assigned classrooms, and homeroom teachers. It was just Sakura's luck that she had been assigned Kakashi Hatake.

It wasn't that she had a personal issue with him. Hell, he was criminally laidback, almost never present during lessons and one of their better teachers, though he could be terrifying at times (usually when Naruto was being too loud or Sasuke too smartass). But there was something in the way his dark eye would linger when no one else saw during classes, which reminded her of when he had been jiji's ward. After the devastating suicide of his father, Sakumo Hatake, who had been unable to cope with the failure of a large military mission thirteen years ago, her jiji, on the urging of Minato Namikaze, had taken him under his wing. He had lived under jiji's roof for two years before leaving to attend a prestigious university in New York, and had always accompanied Serena and Kenji and Waizu. He was a walking reminder of the old and better days. And reminders were painful.

But thankfully he was absent when they entered their classroom. It was one of the few rooms that overlooked the garden rather than the inner courtyard, and sunlight spilled in through the tall-arched windows. The girls were quick to grab the desks by the window, Sakura and Ino side by side, and Hinata seated in front of them, ever the perfect student.

"I can't believe our luck," Ino quipped as she fished up her schedule. "We got the most absentee teacher St. Konoha has ever had".

Sakura nodded, but made no comment about her own opinion; at least not here where everyone could listen in on the conversation. No one needed to know of her personal connection to their homeroom teacher. Things were difficult enough as it was. Instead she opted studying her schedule.

As a majority of the upper class society shared ties to America and Europe either through marriage, blood relations or business, this was reflected upon the curriculum St. Konoha provided for its students. It was a mixture of basic academic courses such as history, mathematics, science and Japanese, and newer courses such as the widened range of social studies, Russian, and political science. Also the number of extracurricular activities seemed to grow each year, having added archery, a tennis club and expanded the range of martial arts classes at Hidan's fitness center just over the summer. As they now were entering their second year, courses became more individualized, slowly forming these teenagers into following in the successful footsteps of their parents. In Sakura's case, she wasn't at all following in her family's footsteps. Instead she had taken a road only Tsunade Senju had taken before her. And the road to becoming a neurosurgeon was long and rocky, filled with advanced mathematics, biology and chemistry.

At least her day was brightened by the fact that she would be starting up cheerleading practice along with Ino, the fee had been paid at Tanglewood Equestrian Academy so she could start up her riding lessons again, and a slot was open for her to attend pencak silat classes with Tenten.

Her thoughts were quickly sidetracked when she peered at Ino's schedule. Or rather, the lack of it.

"Hey, aren't you the captain on the gymnastics team?" she inquired, curiously eyeing the schedule that was conspicuously lacking any extracurricular activities. Ino's shoulders tensed and she carefully folded her schedule, before placing it in her bag.

"I quit," she casually announced with a shrug of her shoulders, avoiding eye contact. Sakura's lips parted, her eyes wide with shock. Gymnastics had been one of those few things Ino had always remained passionate about, along with becoming Miss Konoha and kicking Karin's ass. And she had actually been brilliant. The team had entered the Junior National Championships this spring and she had won gold in her age group's balance beam competition.

"Why?" she asked once she had managed to loosen her tongue from its figurative knot.

Ino shrugged her shoulders again.

"Didn't feel like doing it anymore".

Sakura's jaw went slack.

"Didn't…"

"Let's not do this right now," she cut her off in a sharp whisper, crossing her arms over her chest as she continued to avoid her searching gaze. But Sakura noticed how her fingers flexed in a manner similar to Serena when she repressed a reaction; and the downward tilt to her mouth that quivered whenever she was upset.

"What's happened?" she pressed, placing a hand on Ino's arm. She didn't withdraw from her touch, but her left hand went to her throat, grasping a delicate gold chain dangling from her neck. At the end hung a yellow diamond that her grandfather had given to her on her twelfth birthday. He had gotten it from a rani during one of his travels in India, believed to bring luck. She hadn't once taken it off since she had been given it, even wearing it at championships. And she always fiddled with it when she was having a particularly rough time at home.

"It's no big deal," she responded, shrugging it off as nothing.

Sakura knew it was everything but.

"_Hell it is_!" she shot back at her, eyes slim, catching Ino by surprise. Instinctively she looked at her friend, blue gaze wide and shocked. And so utterly miserable that it was breaking Sakura's heart.

"You used to love it," she continued, in a gentler tone.

She shrugged her shoulders again. "Not anymore".

"But…"

She was stopped from further questioning when their teacher sauntered in. He was a curious character; messy silver hair swept over half of his face, concealing what Sakura knew for a fact to be mismatched eyes. One black with smiling wrinkles; the other an ominous red reminiscent of Madara Uchiha's crimson gaze, made even more ominous by the scar running over it and down his cheek. His mouth was also concealed, beneath a form of surgical mask that seemingly had been a constant fixture to his face since he was a boy. It was the source of much gossip and speculation, and every year hopeful students had made attempts to see what was beneath, but Kakashi, while seemingly lazy and inattentive to his surroundings, was sharp as a hawk and quicker than a ninja. Though she hadn't told a soul, Sakura knew for a fact that he was handsome, having seen him that time when he kissed Serena in the library. She would have loved to boast her knowledge of his looks, but if Serena ever got wind of that she had told, or that she at all had seen what had transpired under jiji's roof, she wouldn't live for much longer.

He was as laidback as could be, one hand deep in the pocket of his black pants, the other holding his newest edition of Icha Icha Paradise (which was a work made of their very own headmaster). Many had labeled him a perv because of it, but he was far from reaching the level of perversity that aforementioned headmaster and Shimura seemed to possess. Not to mention the indiscretions of a certain Asuma Sarutobi and Kurenai Yuhi, who had been caught in the middle of the act on top of the teacher's desk in Room 104.

Kakashi wore a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his elbows, which did little to conceal his _very_ fit body. He had become the center of erotic dreams about desks and chalkboards for most of the female population (Ino included) enamored by his physique and mysterious nature.

"Sorry I'm late class," he casually greeted, visible eye crinkling mirthfully. "There was an old lady who needed help crossing the road…"

"LIAR!" the room burst with shouts, although they weren't half as enraged as that time when he forgot to show up for their school trip to Taka Hall for skiing. For the most part they didn't mind that he was absent – it gave them amply with time for gossip and discussions that was banned from all the other teachers' classrooms.

Kakashi brushed off their exclaim with the wave of his hand, before slipping the orange book into his back pocket as he strode towards his desk, casually leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. There was something about his posture that immediately set off a wave of pheromones amongst the girls, positively swooning on the edges of their seats, all rosy blushes and dreamy eyes. Their sensei either didn't notice or ignored it as his gaze swept over the assembly, pausing just a fraction by Sasuke Uchiha (_his favorite student_), and then once more when his eyes landed on Sakura. It was a dark, indiscernible look, and that made her remember. The kisses in the library, whispered confidentialities in shadowy corners, the day of Uncle Kenji's funeral.

_Always_ that same look.

She averted her gaze to study her hands. Her fingers twitched; a compulsory reflex all of her family seemed to have inherited. She hated that look. It made her feel as though she was missing something.

After taking attendance and making the usual announcements about signing up for clubs and other extracurricular activities, Kakashi began the first lesson.

"I hope you've enjoyed your holiday," Kakashi continued in his lazy manner, "as we will start the semester by studying four American contemporary writers of fiction".

He pushed off the desk, sauntering around it to pick up a piece of chalk to write on the chalkboard – which gave them a nice view of his behind. It tended to distract them while he was teaching, but it was even worse when he was coaching the lacrosse team.

"Tim O'Brien", he spoke as the chalk scratched the green surface, "Cormac McCarthy, Kent Haruf and Stephen King".

Sasuke languidly wrote the names on a sheet of paper under the pretense of being occupied, as he leaned closer to Shikamaru. Naruto was unsurprisingly absent, probably getting his ears full by Jiraiya and being assigned to the first detention of the year.

"So what's the plan?" Shikamaru inquired in a low, bored tone, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest as he leaned as far back in his seat as he possibly could. Sasuke's fingers tightened their hold on the pen.

"Don't know yet". Truth was that he was thinking of making a different approach, but he wasn't about to tell Shikamaru or anyone else. He threw a glance at Sakura, seated beside Yamanaka by the windows. She had her hair tucked behind her ear as she diligently took notes of the lecture. At least, he wasn't going to say anything until he knew his plan would work (he'd already dealt with one humiliation regarding her, he didn't need another one).

"Any luck on finding the detective?" he asked, steering away from the subject. Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders, eyes still closed.

"None," was his response. "As far as the internet is concerned, there was only one detective".

It was what they had expected, as it only had been by sheer coincidence that they had discovered it in Shikaku's files in the first place. And even that information was scant.

"The public records?" Sasuke continued. While it wasn't on the internet, there should at least exist one article in the records that could shed light over who the investigator was. And the Konoha Archive Library was renowned for its newspaper archive.

Shikamaru bothered to pry open one eye, giving him _that_ look.

"Do I look like the type to spend my weekend in the library?" it was a rhetorical question, laced with irritation. Shikamaru wasn't the type to spend time at the library at all, despite his proclaimed genius.

"When can you sneak into your dad's office?" Sasuke pressed on, irritated. It had been three days since they had discovered this new, crucial piece of information, and Shikamaru had done nothing that had brought results. Laziness he could forgive, just not when it came to lacrosse, basketball or this investigation. He did not intend to spend the next ten years waiting for Nara to do his share of the work.

This time Shikamaru bothered to open both eyes, shooting him a dark glare.

"When I have a reasonable excuse to get past his secretary," was his sharp reply, causing Kiba in front of him to shoot him an inquisitive look. He ignored it, continuing to glare at Sasuke, who glared right back. Inwardly Shikamaru wondered why he even bothered, but he did feel the need to make a point. Just because he wanted to be a part of this investigation did not mean that he wanted to devote every waking minute to the cause. That was a task he left for Sasuke, and Neji.

"Figure one out fast," was Sasuke's icy response.

"Figure out how you're gonna fix your own little mess," Shikamaru shot back at him, irritated, "and I'll deal with mine".

The look Sasuke gave him could have killed lesser men, but Shikamaru wasn't so easily frightened. Besides, he was feeling a little self-righteous since Sasuke hadn't exactly contributed the way he had promised he would. And, if he was honest with himself, he quite doubted that Sasuke would be able to contribute, since his only talent with girls was bedding and insulting them. The tactic worked disconcertingly well – just not when they needed it the most. And Sakura Haruno had already proven herself to be less than tolerant to as what came out of Sasuke's mouth. He was actually surprised that she hadn't smacked the living daylights out of him. She certainly hadn't held back that time when Naruto had planted his face in her chest last term – and that had been an accident.

What Sasuke ever did, was _never_ an accident.

"Mr. Uchiha," Kakashi addressed, forcing Sasuke's glaring attention away from Shikamaru. Their sensei regarded the two with a quirked brow and half-lidded eye.

"Is the lesson boring you?" he inquired in his relaxed manner, though there was an underlying threat that couldn't be missed.

"Not at all, sensei," Sasuke replied, coldly.

Kakashi's eye gleamed.

"Then would you like to tell the class what I just said?"

Stubborn silence.

Of course Sasuke wouldn't willingly admit that he hadn't paid attention to the lesson, even when everyone knew. Kakashi's eye narrowed.

"Well, since Mr. Uchiha finds it beneath him to answer", Kiba sniggered as Kakashi spoke; "would someone else be as kind as to enlighten our less than observant students?"

Several more concealed grins and sniggers, enjoying the rarity of Sasuke Uchiha being disparaged in English literature. It was as rare as seeing Gai-sensei scowling at Rock Lee. But just because Sasuke was Kakashi's favorite didn't mean he wouldn't be punished. He certainly didn't tolerate this kind of behavior.

A slender hand rose up. Kakashi's eyebrow quirked once more.

"Miss Haruno".

Now _that_ was interesting.

People exchanged curious glances, some whispering. Everyone had heard about the straddling incident at the Red Affair, being the juiciest bit of gossip of the weekend. Many wondered if the quick-tempered pinkette would think to retaliate. They probably were right, Shikamaru inwardly thought.

"Stephen King's _The Shining_ was inspired by his stay at the Stanley Hotel in Colorado," Sakura began, chin jutted out. "Also, the protagonist, Jack Torrance, a previous alcoholic who broke his son's arm was partly inspired by his own demons as a parent".

Kakashi nodded in satisfaction.

"Very good, Miss Haruno," he praised. "Good to know that someone is paying attention".

He threw Sasuke a pointed look that made him scowl.

"I do try to make up for the shortcomings of my fellow students," was her casual reply.

The room froze.

Oh, she did_ not.._.

People stared, awed. Some scandalized, but no one could deny that they were impressed by her daring. Clearly, she wasn't quite the pushover they had written her off as.

Because this definitely hadn't happened before.

A _girl_ had actually _belittled_ the notorious _Sasuke Uchiha_.

It didn't matter where you put the emphasis. It still hadn't happened before. And in _English_ _class_ no less.

Scoop of the week, definitely. Of the month, even.

Kiba was smirking as he regarded the pinkette, sitting with a regal pose and a ghost of a smile on her lips. Beneath the desk she gave Yamanaka a low five. _So the kitten has claws, eh?_

Sasuke's eyes appeared almost red as he glared holes in the back of her head. She hadn't even bothered to look at him, and, to his disgruntlement, it wasn't because she didn't have the guts to do so. And not for the first time did he realize that he had underestimated her.

She could be a bitch if she wanted to.

Kakashi cleared his throat, recovering from his initial surprise.

"Good to know, Miss Haruno," he drawled, not quite sure whether to appraise or scold. He chose to do neither. "Now, Stephen King…"

There was a knock on the door, interrupting him.

It opened and a head of striking yellow peered inside. Nervous blue eyes, a rather forced smile.

"Ah, Mr. Namikaze," their sensei acknowledged with a nod. "Come in".

He did so reluctantly, extremely self-conscious of the way people were staring, some with lips cruelly curled into smiles. He was in a state of mess, his white shirt crinkled and halfway out of his pants, although the latter was a frequent occurrence, and judging by his hair he had barely rolled out of bed before he sent their headmaster flying off the podium. One hand was deeply buried in his pocket, though Sasuke could see it was clenched into a fist, the other holding the strap of his backpack.

"I, uh, got a hall pass". He fished it out of his pocket, and awkwardly presented the bunched paper to Kakashi. He accepted it without comment, placing it on the desk behind him.

"Now, what desk is not taken?" he inquired, mostly to himself as his gaze scoured the classroom. "Ah, there's one by Miss Hyuuga".

Hinata's heart stopped. For one unnerving second everything seemed to slow down, pause even, as his cerulean gaze locked with hers. And then her heartbeat quickened, pounding harshly against her ribcage, and blood rushed to her face, heating her cheeks. She wanted to run, wanted to stay. Wanted to play it casual, but knew she couldn't do that even if her life depended on it. With hopeless anticipation and growing anxiety she watched as he made his way over, forced smile melting into a genuine grin. Her heart skipped a beat once more.

This couldn't possibly be good for her health.

"Hi, Hinata," he greeted cheerily. "Hope you don't mind".

She was tongue-tied, unable to make a sound. She thought she might have a heart attack.

He _said_ her name. He _knew_ her name.

He seated himself by the desk next to her, and she caught a whiff of grass and sunshine.

Oh, he was so handsome, and _so_ close.

A light kick to her shin from Ino brought her back, loosened her tongue.

"N-n-no, n-not at a-all," she stumbled in her words, more blood rushing to her cheeks. Inwardly she smacked herself for coming off like such a weirdo. Compulsively she fidgeted with her fingers.

But Naruto-kun didn't seem to mind that she was acting like a weirdo, flashing another grin before fishing his book out of his fraying, black and orange backpack. She looked away before he straightened up again; terrified that he might notice her staring. She fixed her gaze on Kakashi, who had returned to lecturing about the characteristics of King's protagonist, trying to write down what he said in her notebook without registering the words spoken. She was convinced that he and the rest of the class could hear the rapid beating of her heart, the way her damn blushes deepened in color. One hand bunched the material of her skirt, suppressing her anxiety. But she couldn't control the quiver in her right hand, and the pen slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor.

Kami, she wanted to _die_.

She went to pick it up, head pounding loudly in her ears. Naruto's tan fingers closed around it and she brushed the back of his hand. The skin was warm to the touch, as she had imagined.

She withdrew as if burnt.

He looked at her, before handing her the pen. Their hands touched again. If it was possible, she turned a shade darker. Nearly dropped the pen again.

He frowned.

"Are you ok?" he asked, placing a hand on her forehead. She went rigid at the touch, the muscles in her neck tightening. She met his gaze, so blue and beautiful and warm, and she couldn't breathe.

"You look like you have a fever".

_Oh dear Kami. _

Her heart was in her throat, a painful throbbing that blocked the airways. The edges of her vision darkened.

"Hinata?"

Everything went black.

"HINATA!"

* * *

><p>History classes were held in the school's daunting lecture hall, made out of dark, intricately carved cedar wood and pitched floors, and equipped with the same stuffy old benches that Tobirama Senju once sat his noble ass on. It had been added to the building in the early twenties, an imitation of one in Oxford that Tashiro Haruno had seen while visiting England as a part of an emissary. It wasn't like anything the inhabitants of Konoha had been used to, nor orthodox in many's views, but Tashiro had insisted to create something no other school had. The hall had of course been paid by him.<p>

Their history teacher, the young, passionate and sometimes ill-tempered _(Naruto's fault, unsurprisingly)_ Iruka Umino, was patiently standing by the worn old chalkboard, waiting for them to get seated. He was tall and fit, with kind dark eyes and a scar running over the bridge of his nose _(a result of the 1996 chain collision that killed his parents)._ He was dressed much like a teacher at a prep school would; black suit pants, pale blue, crisp linen shirt, and grey waistcoat. He greeted them with smiles as they passed him on their way up the stairs.

Sakura greeted him back with a smile of her own as she passed by with Ino and Hinata. He nodded in acknowledgement, and then his gaze softened with sympathy as he laid eyes upon the young Hyuuga heiress. She held her gaze firmly on the rows of seats, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag, not wishing to see another pitying look. After fainting (_twice_) in the middle of English class, she had been taken to see the school nurse with Sakura, and been treated like fragile, breakable glass since. But Sakura knew it wasn't pity, just simply empathy, since both she and Iruka-sensei had lost someone they loved on the coiling roads north of the city. Blood Path, many called it. The curse of the founders. There had been four deathly chain collisions on that road only in the last thirty years; one in 1988, one in 1993, the one in 1996 that killed Iruka's parents, and the one last fall. She smothered her thoughts before she could venture down that dark, dark memory lane again, instead quietly trailing behind her friends. They scooted in on the third row, only occupied by a pair of boys who usually sat in the very back of the classroom playing on their cellphones. It was impossible not to notice Uchiha and his friends passing their row, and not for the first time did Sakura have to suppress the urge to stand up and slap his arrogant ass into next Monday.

They seated themselves five rows back, Shikamaru joining his closest friend Chōji Akimichi in the darkest corner so he could take a nap undetected. Chōji was a nice guy, the sole heir to the Akimichi food empire, but he didn't rank high on the popularity scale. Mostly due to the fact that he was always munching on barbeque chips and as a result was chubbier than most of their peers, and people rarely noticed that he was the sweetest and most considerate guy at all of St. Konoha. _And_ the most sane, aside from when the '_fat-ass'_ comment was thrown at him. Though he wasn't in the same circle as Sakura, aside from Ino, who had known him as long as she had known Shikamaru, he had been very sweet to Hinata when she was in the hospital last winter. He brought her his mother's homemade pies and baskets of chocolates because she wasn't eating properly, even long after the rest of the class stopped paying visits.

Sakura smiled. A rare find, he was.

Gentle as butterfly wings and more reliable than hot summer in August.

Sasuke and Naruto joined Kiba and Shino on the same row. Shino was the heir to the Aburame clan. He was what many called a weirdo, concealing his face behind sunglasses and hoodies and always seemed to be studying some insect. Bug Boy, they used to call him. And of course Karin and her flock of doe-eyed fangirls scooted in on the row in front of them, she herself strategically placed right under Sasuke's nose. Sakura rolled her eyes. Ino made an unladylike noise reminiscent of a snort.

"Good afternoon, class," Iruka greeted them as they all settled down. They mumbled a greeting in return, not at all as enthusiastic. History tended to make the days long and dull.

"Glad to see that everyone's still with us," he continued, giving a pointed look in Naruto's direction, causing a few to snigger in the back of the hall. Naruto, still recovering from his ordeal, went red with embarrassment and seemed to sink into his seat. His humiliation ended with a cold look from Sasuke, effectively silencing them.

"This year's curriculum will cover the history of Japan", Iruka continued, "and will focus quite heavily on our local history". He walked around the desk to lean against it in a manner similar to Kakashi, although far from as casual.

"As most of you know, you'll be writing your term paper about the founding of Konoha and the old clans". That caught the students' attention, and a low buzzing of whispers broke out. Although history in general was boring as hell, the history of Konoha on the other hand was extremely fascinating. And at the center was the infamous Senju-Uchiha feud that stretched back centuries; legendary battles and fires and murders, all riddled with intrigues, sex and secrecy.

"You can choose to focus on one particular clan or on several; however I strongly suggest you do the first," their teacher went on, each word stressed. "The point of the term paper is to make a thorough research of the clans and how they have affected, and/or contributed to the founding of Konoha".

Half of the class had already made up their mind about which clan to choose, something their teacher took note of with a quirked smile.

"And _no"_, he continued, stressing the word, "not everyone can write about the Uchihas or the Senjus". Low moans of disappointments, a few glares. Competitive looks between them, determined to be the first to lay claim to either of the two.

"I understand they play an exciting role in our history," he spoke again, though he was not at all sympathetic. But the exciting part was a grave understatement. Hell, everything that ever happened had been caused by either the Senjus or the Uchihas, or both. Like the battle at the Valley of the End, the burning of the Senju estate. The Midnight Massacre.

"But someone also has to do the task of writing about the Hyuugas, the Sarutobis, the Inuzukas, Naras, Namikazes, Uzumakis, Yamanakas, Aburames, Akimichis _and_ the Harunos". They were surprised that he hadn't gone out of breath by the time he had recited all of the old clans.

"They've all done notable things that have placed Konoha on the map".

Although no one was about to deny that fact, most of them inwardly thought that there hadn't been anyone more notable than the Senjus and the Uchihas.

"You'll have three weeks to decide which clan to base your term paper on – if I see too many repetitions of the Senjus or the Uchihas I'll be deciding it _for_ you". The last was uttered as a rather dark promise.

"Any questions?" He asked.

Sakura's hand shot up. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Miss Haruno?"

"As research material, can we use documents and such from the time?" she inquired, causing a few to throw her curious looks. Their sensei straightened his back, suddenly quite alert.

"You mean documents that either belong to the families or are on public record?" he questioned, brow slightly furrowed.

She gave a confirmative nod. "Hai".

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer. Then he looked at her, nodding.

"It's always a plus," he replied. "Just remember that the term paper is about the history as we _know it,_ not how the clans _perceive_ it". Once again he stressed the words, trying to make a point.

"The danger about documents of that kind is the fact that what is written is not necessarily correct, or true". There had been many debates throughout the years about how the clans perceived history compared to how it had actually played out. Many thought that the views of particularly the founding families was so biased that some documents and scrolls were considered unreliable sources.

Silently Sakura thought that the Harunos weren't biased like the rest. Secrets were their weapons. Cold, hard, brutal realities others were unwilling to acknowledge. There could be no twisting of events to glorify someone in their documents - that would twist the secrets as well. But they were biased, too, she couldn't deny that. There were numerous justifications for their clan's less than noble actions.

"So keep in mind to be objective," Iruka continued. "Any more questions?"

Silence.

"No? Alright, then we shall begin to scratch the surface of our local history".

There were rustling of history books and notebooks, the clicking of pens and shuffle of feet as they leaned forward, at least trying to pretend to be alert. Iruka turned towards the chalkboard as he began his lecture.

"Konoha was originally a small settlement that was established at the end of the Kamakura period, with the destruction of the Kamakura shogunate". He wrote 1333 AD on the chalkboard, punctuating it by drawing a circle around it. "Most settlers were fugitives escaping Kamakura after Ashikaga Takauji sieged it".

"Now, there are three notable clans that date back to this period. Can anyone tell me which three?" he inquired, gaze searching the rows. Before Sakura could raise her hand Iruka's eyes had landed on someone above her, his eyebrow quirked in surprise. "Yes, Mr. Nara?"

People were so surprised that they twisted in their seats to look at him. Shikamaru lowered his hand and rolled his eyes at their inquisitive stares.

"The Nara, Inuzuka and Haruno clans," he answered, and then returned to reclining in his seat. Chōji patted his shoulder as he continued to munch discreetly on his bag of chips. The rest of them hadn't quite recovered from their shock. Since when did Shikamaru go through the trouble of answering a question on his own accord?

But it really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. The Naras had been part of the Kamakura shogunate, as generals and advisors and strategists. It was something they took pride in, despite its eventual demise at the hands of the emperor and men like Ashikaga Takauji.

Iruka nodded, satisfied.

"Correct. Nice to know you're with us, Mr. Nara".

"I try my best, sensei" was his dry reply, eyes closed. Utmost disrespect, Koharu Utatane would have yelled. Iruka was taken aback.

Ino concealed her laughter as a cough, Sakura and Hinata concealed childish giggles with their hands. Sasuke was smirking. Shikamaru had always been too lazy to care about the authority of teachers. Or respect for that matter.

"Yes, well," Iruka coughed, trying to conceal his disgruntlement, "they attempted to farm the land, but it was a strenuous task and famines were common. The settlement developed little. But during the reign of Emperor Higashiyama, in 1689, something happened. _What_ happened?"

Sakura nudged at Hinata, who threw her a reluctant look. Then slowly, almost timidly, she raised her hand. The movement was immediately caught by Iruka.

"Yes, Miss Hyuuga?"

She lowered her hand, straightening her back. Her fingers dug into the material of her skirt.

"H-Hyuuga Mizunoo arrived from Tokyo with his family," she began, slowly, trying her best to erase her stuttering. "H-he became the daimyo of this region, and was a relative of the imperial family".

Iruka smiled, impressed.

"Very good Miss Hyuuga," he praised, causing her to blush. Sakura patted her clenching hand, flashing her an encouraging smile. "Indeed, the Hyuuga clan settled down much earlier than the other clans that we today call the founders. But how was the clan received by the settlers?"

"Hate".

They turned to look at Sasuke. He was leaning forward in his seat, elbows on the desk, hands folded, partly concealing his mouth. His gaze was dark, slim.

Iruka raised a brow at him, surprised.

"Could you elaborate that, Mr. Uchiha?"

The boy straightened slightly.

"The settlers, particularly the clans, did not take well to be ruled over, as they considered themselves to be daimyos of their own land. The Hyuugas took it from them".

Iruka nodded.

"Yes. But explain the hatred".

"They burnt the fields, so they would only rule over ashes".

"By they you mean…"

"The Harunos". Accusatory, challenging.

_Payback_.

Sakura felt his piercing gaze in the back of her head. She went rigid.

_Oh, he did not…_

The whole room seemed to freeze, awaiting her reaction. Chōji dropped his last flake of chips. Naruto winced. Shikamaru sank further into his seat, barely containing a groan. He just _had_ to bring that up.

It had been a long debate about the Haruno clans involvement with the fires meant to drive the Hyuugas away. In the past, when Sasuke's grandfather had been alive, the Uchiha clan had been stirring the pot again, throwing out accusations about the Harunos' less than noble deeds and their inability to admit it. Cowardly they were, morally depraved. The debate had died down after he passed away. The Uchihas and the Harunos made peace. So why in god's name did he bring that up? Even for payback, that was a low (and dangerous) blow.

A glance at Sakura's rigid back was enough to understand the effect of his words.

Despite being the prodigal son of Fugaku Uchiha, sometimes, he was just a fucking moron.

Sakura's eyes slimmed maliciously, the normally light color of her gaze darkening to a shade of teal. Ino threw her a nervous look, grabbed her wrist.

She didn't turn to look at him, refused to give him that satisfaction. Calmly, as the blood pounded in her ears and the rush of adrenaline at the accusation made her captive hand curl into a fist, she raised her free one. It quivered softly.

"Sensei, could I correct that statement please?" she inquired softly, evenly. Inwardly she gave herself a pat on the back for sounding much calmer than she felt. Iruka, shocked, could do nothing but nod his consent. Immediately her hand fell to her lap, fingers flexing.

"The first burning was done in agreement with the Naras and the Inuzukas," she began, speaking loud and clear so that Sasuke Uchiha could not fail to hear her. "It wasn't before the _Uchiha_ clan first came to Konoha that the Harunos themselves started a fire".

The Midnight Massacre. It killed fifteen members of the Uchiha clan. It was still an event of controversy, riddled with justifications from both parties. The root to all the conflicts between the clans. Sakura's jiji had told her of it, and with pride had shown her the fusuma panels depicting the deed in the Inner Hall. Wine laced with poison, daggers hidden in the folds of robes in red and blue. Crackling fire, blood, smoke. Faces of ice and pride, smiling viciously.

'_When they killed the sons, they should have killed the mothers, too, cherry blossom'_ he had told her. _'Women can be cruel creatures'. _

She delicately stressed the Uchihas as she looked over her shoulder, steadfastly meeting Sasuke's gaze. There was glint of steel, and ice in her gaze, and something dark, cruel.

His lips quirked behind his folded hands; satisfied that he had pushed the right buttons. She would come chasing soon enough.

He watched as her lips curled in a way he hadn't thought she could be capable of.

"And they deserved what they got".

* * *

><p>By the time of lunch break, everyone had heard of the growing enmity between Sakura Haruno and Sasuke Uchiha. Some said it was a result of Sakura being rejected at the Red Affair – others drew lines to the upcoming marriage of Sasuke's brother and Sayuri Himoto, claiming she was trying to lash out on behalf of her jealous older sister. Some said it was the other way around – that Sasuke had been rejected and was lashing out because of his wounded ego. But most people said that it all came down to sexual tension – much like what was happening between Neji Hyuuga and Tenten Himoto. The comparison made Tenten scowl every time she heard it, scaring her fellow classmates, and causing Neji to look far too pleased with himself throughout Political Studies when the rumors began circulating. Now she was stomping through the corridors, in her foulest mood since the announcement of Sayuri's engagement, torn between strangling Sasuke Uchiha and drowning Neji Hyuuga in the pool. Both would be extremely satisfactory.<p>

But before she could make her decision her way was intercepted.

And _of course_ it had to be Neji fucking Hyuuga. He was smirking down at her in all his pompous glory, arms crossed over his broad chest. Looking as arrogantly handsome as ever.

Her stomach knotted.

Her scowl deepened.

"Get out of my way Hyuuga".

His smirk widened.

She went to pass him by, but he stepped into her way. Her gaze slimmed.

"Why in such a foul mood Himoto?" he asked, almost teasingly. But Tenten knew very well that he was pleasantly aware of the rumors and the state they had put her in. And now he was intending to rub it in any way he could.

"Having to see your ugly face all day".

A blatant lie, but hey, she wasn't about to admit to anything. She went to pass him once more, only for his hand to shoot out to rest against the lockers, blocking her way. His pearlescent gaze glinted. She made a noise of irritation and dropped her bag to the floor with a heavy thump.

"_What_?" she demanded, beginning to lose hold of the reins keeping her temper at bay. "What do you want?"

Something akin to surprise flickered in his gaze, though she couldn't quite discern it before it had morphed back into that challenging glimmer from before. There was a slight tilt to his mouth as he spoke.

"After this weekend I thought that was rather obvious".

Despite herself, color rose to her cheeks at the reminder. A spark was ignited, heat coiling in her belly. For a moment she had forgotten why she was angry, caught up in a track of warm hands, hot lips; a need deep in her core that grew with each touch. But she was quickly brought back to reality when the quirk of Neji's lips curled into a smirk.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted, inwardly smacking herself. She was turning into Hinata when she was in the same room as Naruto.

"Lying doesn't suit you," he commented lightly.

She scowled.

"Well, I'm not interested," she threw back, chin jutted out stubbornly.

Unfortunately for her, he didn't look convinced.

"What's going on with Hinata?"

So she chose to switch subjects. Selfish she knew, but it was also for the sake of her friend. At least that was what she told herself. And immediately she got the satisfaction of seeing his arrogant smirk wiped off his face, rapidly morphing into an indiscernible expression, whereas his composure went rigid.

It had always been a sore spot. Hinata, Hyuugas.

It stemmed from his father, she supposed.

The handsome, talented Hizashi Hyuuga, twin brother of Hiashi, born only minutes after him. Mirror images of each other, impossible to tell apart. And yet, the younger brother had been denied the right of being of the main branch, degraded to the branch family, forced to carry their brand. The same brand that Neji carried on his forehead, always concealed, because of shame, bitterness. It was no secret that Neji felt denied of his birthrights, for he was of the main branch in everything but by that brand. And Hinata had everything he wanted, felt that he deserved. Despite living as siblings for the past ten years, that bitterness remained. Most of his life he had spent demeaning Hinata as less than worthy of her titles, of her position, although, there were moments when he was kind. Whether he liked it or not, Tenten knew he cared for Hinata.

His gaze was icy as he bore down on her, but she was so used to his death glares by now that it had little effect on her. Calmly she leaned her shoulder against the lockers, expectant.

"What of her?" he asked, voice calm.

"You know what," she shot back. A slight curl to her lips. "Lying doesn't suit you".

Steely silence.

"Is he doing it again?"

His gaze slimmed at her inquiry. Normally a bad sign.

"Doing what?" that voice again, so calm, so denying. But they both knew what she spoke of, she could read it in his eyes. They had hardened at the suggestion.

"I know what they do". A statement, cold, brutal.

Her gaze didn't waver when his sharpened, though her fingers twitched, her heartbeat quickening. She was on thin ice. There was never a way to predict him when it came to his clan, to Hinata. But when he remained unresponsive, determined not to admit her statement, she pushed him further, dug deeper into the rabbit hole.

"All those bruises," she continued, and his jaw tightened, fingers curling.

"The clothes to cover it up". His gaze slimmed, and she knew she had gotten under his skin. Didn't enjoy it, never one to taunt someone else for their misfortunes. And Neji's misfortune was the family he was born into.

"But you never say it was an accident".

_And no one dared ask. _

She didn't have to say it. Common knowledge, commonly not spoken of, as her father told her once, when she had learned from Hinata how she got her bruises. The old clans lived by certain standards, certain rules, and no outsider was in a position to criticize. So they simply accepted it.

Tenten however, didn't.

"Is he doing it again?" she pressed, dislodging herself from the locker to step closer, a certain urgency coming over her. "Is that why she wears lipstick and heels?"

He still stubbornly refused to admit anything, not at all happy with how she had turned the tables on him.

"It doesn't concern you," he told her off.

"_Hell it does"_. She shot back at him, taking a step closer, catching him off guard. There was steel in her gaze as she glared up at him. "Last time she went down that road we nearly lost her".

His fingers flexed; the only reaction she got from him.

"I don't want that to repeat itself. Do you?"

He said nothing.

"Don't you care?"

Something flashed in his gaze. It was answer enough.

"Thought so. _Is_ he doing it again?" she repeated her question, more forcefully.

He switched his stance, uncharacteristically uneasy in his movements. Then reluctantly:

"Not as far as I know".

Her brow furrowed. It hadn't been the answer she expected.

"Then why?" she questioned, pensively.

Neji watched her cautiously. Hadn't expected this from her. Neither did he want her to get involved in affairs she couldn't understand nor get out of unscathed. Hyuugas didn't tolerate outsiders.

"Fallback," he responded, although he wasn't quite certain if it was true.

"Maybe," she muttered, not at all certain. It was plausible. It was barely two months now before they hit the mark of Hinote's first death anniversary. Perhaps the fast approach to that date had brought this about. And yet…she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

There was something _else_.

Her track of mind was interrupted when Neji swept down to grab her bag, holding it out for her. She blinked, confused. His gaze was unreadable as he looked down at her.

"You'll be late for film studies," he said. Tenten didn't even want to know how he knew her schedule. Reluctantly she accepted it, slinging it onto her shoulder again. Without a word he walked past her, leaving her alone in the corridor. But not before brushing his callus fingertips against the delicate skin of her wrist like he had done in the auditorium, causing her pulse to throb. As blood rose to her cheeks, she turned her head to watch his tall figure disappear into the crowded courtyard, not once looking back at her.

Only then did she realize she had held her breath.

* * *

><p>The courtyard was packed with students who had forsaken the classrooms and the cafeteria to enjoy their lunch out in the open. They took advantage of the last weeks of hot summer sun by reclining in the green grass, sunbathing and chatting about scandals, upcoming school trips and of course the sports festival. A few were playing with a ball, and some had ventured into the garden to dip their feet in the water, or sleep beneath the sultry shadows of the trees. There was nothing else Shikamaru would rather do than follow the examples of his peers. But to his great misfortune, thanks to one pigheaded Uchiha who really needed to learn how to behave around ill-tempered women, staying still in one spot for too long would place him right in the line of fire. Ino had been hunting him since lunch break started twenty minutes ago, scouring the hallways and the courtyard like some hungry mountain cat in search of her prey. Her sudden need to seek him out had been spurred on by Sasuke's <em>idiotic<em> comment, which gave her another reason to hate that bratty Uchiha's guts even more. Not for the first time did he question why he let himself get sucked into messes like these.

And in the face of a confrontation with Ino, he hadn't really felt the need to uphold his promise about '_dealing'_ with her. He valued keeping all of his body parts intact above whatever fit of anger Sasuke and Neji would get themselves into. Besides, it was their fault that he was in this mess in the first place, with their massive egos and stupid ideas and stupid, _stupid_ comments.

But as the minutes trickled by and he had maneuvered the school grounds twice, he found that this game of hide and seek was becoming way too troublesome. So he had slipped back into their homeroom, where they would have calculus with Asuma-sensei, hoping that the blonde banshee wouldn't think of looking there until class started and he could buy himself another two hours. But he knew that by the time calculus was over she would be barricading the entrance and he would be left with three options: go through the bother of being the first one to leave the classroom, jump out of the window or await his impending doom. He sighed irritably, leaning comfortably back in his chair, feet on the desk.

Troublesome women.

Troublesome _life_.

He looked through the window at the clouds floating above with longing.

What wouldn't he give to be one of those right now?

"I knew you'd take the easy way out".

He briefly closed his eyes.

Fuck it.

Ino sauntered inside, looking rather pleased with herself as she closed the door behind her. He watched apprehensively as she advanced on him, cornered mouse to the cat. Maybe he should have kept moving after all.

Too late for that anyway.

"So," she said, dumping her bag on the floor as she slid onto the desk in front of him, slender legs crossing and making her skirt hike up enough to make his gaze linger on the golden skin of her thigh longer than he would have liked. His eyes flickered to her face once he became aware of his own staring, and found to his utter annoyance that she was smiling knowingly. "Shall we continue our conversation from the other night?"

More like interrogation, but he wasn't about to argue.

His silence did the prompting, and she continued, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. Involuntarily his gaze landed on her blouse, the top three buttons conspicuously undone. A rather fetching stone rested at the top of her cleavage, he guessed being roughly 47 carats. Red-painted fingernails purposely played with the collar of the blouse, and he had to remind himself of who she was before he gave her the satisfaction of ogling her _again_.

She was Ino Yamanaka, the bossy, terrifying playmate that threw temper tantrums and ruined his sand castles when they were five. She was _the_ drama queen, who had been bitching Karin throughout middle school and dated her way through half of the male population, recurrences amongst others being Kiba Inuzuka. She was cheerleader, ring leader, the popular girl. And she was clever, pretty and trouble.

_Big_ trouble.

"Are you going to stare all day or are you going to tell me what you and your buddies are up to?" She spoke in such a casual manner that she might have discussed the color on her fingernails or the latest Ralph Lauren collection. But the insinuation still made color rise to his cheeks. He hoped she didn't notice.

But of course she did.

"Are you so taken with me that you've lost your tongue?" A teasing jab.

It annoyed him that she knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of him. It annoyed him even more that he always fell into the same trap.

"Don't flatter yourself," he retorted.

Her smile widened.

"Then start talking".

He muttered something along the lines of 'troublesome women' and crossed his arms over his chest, sighing in irritation.

"There's nothing to say," was his nonchalant response.

Ino quirked an eyebrow, the edge of her mouth curling. Her gaze wasn't mirthful anymore, having turned a shade darker. A bad sign he knew well.

"Yes, there is". A statement; unwavering conviction in her voice.

"Let's start with something simple".

"Like?"

"Like why you sat down with us in the auditorium".

He knew that had been a bad idea. Cursed Neji for his stupidity.

"And why the hell you, Naruto, Neji and Sasuke are in on this together".

He nearly tipped his chair backwards as his body tensed and his pulse quickened, fingers twitching behind his head. Realized once more just how clever she was.

"I spent the weekend pondering on our disastrous get-together", she continued with a smile as she studied her hand, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, "and it struck me that whatever scheme your friend is up to, all four of you are in on it".

"Which leads me to ask one single question," she said as her hand fell to take hold of the edge of the desk. She leaned closer to his face, brining once again attention to her purposely unbuttoned shirt and the dangling gem there. This time Shikamaru prided himself for only lingering a second before meeting her gaze.

"What is it that you want with Sakura?"

Thankfully, she hadn't figured that one out. He swallowed, mouth feeling strangely dry.

"Again, I don't know what you're talking about," he casually replied, purposely leaning further back in the chair, attempting to look as though he couldn't care less about what Sasuke was doing. But that sort of pretense had long since ceased to convince Ino.

"Your eyebrows go up when you're lying," she deadpanned.

He nearly tipped his chair again.

"They don't," he countered, automatically furrowing his brow.

"You're a lousy liar, Shikamaru," she sighed, as if disappointed. Once more she took a look at her red-painted fingernails.

"Believe what you want," he grumbled, pulling his feet off the desk, the chair slamming against the floor as if making a point of his irritation.

She got off the desk suddenly, planting her hands firmly on his desk, leaning forward until her face was eyelevel with his and their noses almost brushed. He got a whiff of perfume, different from the one she'd worn other night. It was more…_flowery_. Gardenia, jasmine and iris were his best guess.

"I don't believe," Ino told him, voice low, sultry. She peered at him through lowered eyelashes, making her gaze seem darker. It would have been an effective seduction hadn't it been for the way her lips curled. "I _know_".

"You're crazy".

Had they been five, she'd hit him over the head with the nearest object and refused to talk to him for weeks. Now she simply smiled viciously.

"Why're you obsessing about this anyway?" he asked, subtly trying to steer away from the subject. It worked somewhat, for she did tell him.

"Because Sakura is my best friend". Another deadpan statement.

Then she leaned even closer, her breath fanning the skin of his jaw as she kept his gaze. They were sharp, dangerous.

"And I'll sooner kill than allow her to be hurt again".

Normally he would have brushed it off as a dramatic manner of speech, something she said to make a point. But there was nothing dramatic about the way she said it. More like something she had decided long ago, had resigned herself to do.

It was unnerving.

He would never have expected something like that from her.

"Is there something wrong here?"

Ino withdrew and both turned their heads to see Asuma-sensei in the doorway, looking rather suspicious. He was tall and burly, dressed inappropriately with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up over his elbows and wearing jeans instead of trousers. He had always been the rebellious one of the Sandaime Hokage's two sons. His older brother, Haza Sarutobi, had always been the perfect one. Had the perfect academic records, a heftily paid job as an attorney. Waizu Haruno was said to have always been a difficult client, but one who paid handsomely. Haza then married the perfect woman, got a beautiful son. But like so many others he'd been killed in the massacre, leaving behind a baby and a widow.

Asuma was a different story. A difficult child, an even more difficult teenager. He and his father had a row a few years back and Asuma left Konoha. It had only been recently that he had returned to work at St. Konoha, reconciling with his father and picking up his relationship with Kurenai Yuhi. Ino suspected there would be an engagement soon. To Ino's disadvantage, Asuma was a family friend of the Naras, and had a close-knit relationship with her current victim. Shōgi partners, as far as she knew.

So she smiled sweetly, trying to evade suspicion.

"No, nothing is wrong Asuma-sensei," she assured him. Her eyes glittered. "I was just talking with my new partner". She patted Shikamaru's head as one would pet a dog.

Asuma's eyebrow quirked.

"Partner?" he repeated, disbelieving.

Ino wasn't fazed, continuing to smile as she rounded Shikamaru's desk, standing at his right.

"Yes, of course," she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We must strengthen the ties between our families, mustn't we, Shikamaru?"

He stared at her, not quite believing what she was saying.

She didn't wait for an answer, studied her fingers in a casual manner before looking back at her suspicious teacher.

"Not my idea of course", she continued, shrugging her shoulders, "but I have to do my duty". The last was uttered as though it was a chore she'd rather not do, and that little detail was enough to convince Asuma. He nodded, accepting her explanation, and went to the teacher's desk. Ino's smile widened, and went to grab the seat beside Shikamaru, who continued to stare at her as though she was sprouting two heads and a tail.

"_Duty_?" Shikamaru repeated, just as disbelieving as his teacher.

"Hai". She offered a vicious smile, easily mistaken to be sweet, leaning close so only he could hear her next words. "It is my duty to protect my friend and if that means that I will forcibly sign us up to be partners in every fucking subject for the next year then so be it".

He simply stared. She offered him another smile.

"Unless of course, you tell me what is going on right now and we can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist".

He stared, tongue-tied. Utterly baffled that she would take such a course of action. In fact, he didn't believe it.

She was bluffing. Had to be.

No way in hell would she be willing to partner herself with him. Aside from Naruto he was the worst thinkable person to get partnered with in class. And Ino was _always_ partnered with Sakura or Hinata.

Definitely a bluff.

"No?" she inquired, eyebrow arched.

No response. Just a dead stare.

"Fine. It's settled then". She shrugged, leaning down to grab her bag and fish up her calculus book, notebook and a hot pink pen.

As if on cue, the rest of the class spilled in through the door, a chattering mass armed with books and pens. Hinata was one of the first to appear. She threw an odd look at the pair, uncertain if she should address the sudden change in seating. Reluctantly, however, she silently slipped into the seat in front of them. Naruto and Kiba were laughing as they strode inside, and paid little attention to Shikamaru, although Karin and her group of fangirls, and even the aloof Shino did. Not to mention Chōji, who nearly fell over his own feet seeing the two of them seated together – something that hadn't occurred since they all were in elementary school and were forced to sit in groups of three. But he didn't dare ask what had brought this on, probably fearing the wrath of Ino, and instead opted to slink into the seat behind them.

Not without giving Shikamaru an inquiring look, however.

Next in came Sakura, cheeks flushed, hair unkempt, looking ready to strangle the first poor soul that got in her way. Shikamaru barely refrained from groaning.

Sasuke had done it again.

And he could practically _feel_ the way Ino's gaze slimmed.

Fucking troublesome.

"What the hell happened to you?" the blonde demanded to know when Sakura made her way over, cerulean gaze scanning her overall appearance. Paused at too-red lips, widened, then narrowed to slits. The only thing lacking, Shikamaru thought, was the sharp, poisonous teeth and a slithering tongue, and she'd make a pretty vicious snake.

"I'm never going to the bathroom again!" Sakura exclaimed loudly, tossing her head back in frustration. Paused, counted to three by the looks of it, and then as she was about to start a rant that surely would give him a headache, froze. Dark green eyes flickered between himself and Ino, once, twice. Then zeroed in on him like some predatory bird.

He really needed to stop comparing these girls to animals.

"What's he doing in my seat?" Sakura asked, throwing Ino an ugly look as she pointed an accusing finger at his face. Ino wasn't fazed, smiling as she slapped his back so hard it couldn't be mistaken for a friendly pat.

"He's my new partner," she announced cheerily, hand resting on his shoulder in a manner Shikamaru only could describe as ominous. Sakura stared dumbly.

"You and _him_?" she eventually spoke, incredulity on her face as the finger moved between Shikamaru and Ino.

If Shikamaru hadn't agreed with her, he might have been insulted.

"Yes," Ino nodded, still smiling. "I know; appalling, isn't it?"

"Are you drunk?" Sakura demanded to know, scrutinizing her friend with a suspicious gleam in her eyes.

"_No,_" Ino sighed, irritably. Then she smiled once more. "I just needed a change. _Right_, Shikamaru?"

Neither of the girls expected him to actually respond to that, ignoring him even as he went through the bother of opening his mouth to protest.

"Good luck with that," Sakura told Ino, before ignoring them completely, sliding into the seat next to Hinata, who softly inquired if she was okay. Shikamaru didn't take much notice of her reply, suddenly aware of Sasuke's presence in the room. He looked like he was in a foul mood, and had unceremoniously kicked Kiba out of the seat next to Naruto. Shikamaru's gaze flickered back to Sakura, noticing the tension there, and hoped for the love of Kami that Ino hadn't noticed.

But of course she had.

Smilingly, predatory, like a hungry, pretty banshee, she leaned closer to him. He could feel her soft breath on his skin.

"The probability that you're gonna survive this school year is shrinking by the minute, Nara," she warned him sweetly, ominously. Then withdrew, as their sensei greeted the class, starting the lesson, leaving Shikamaru tense and pondering whether he should jump from the roof or shove Sasuke instead.

The lesson was uneventful – boring, for the lack of a better word, and since his seatmate was behaving, Shikamaru was close to dozing off twenty minutes in when Sakura turned in her seat and whispered something to Ino that caught his attention.

"Ino, do you know what Outis means?"

Discreetly he peered at the pinkette curiously. Ino looked up from her senseless scribbles, surprised by the question. For a moment she looked at her friend, not quite understanding why she'd ask something like that in middle of calculus. And frankly, neither could Shikamaru.

Hence his curiosity.

"No," Ino responded. "Why?"

Sakura shrugged her shoulders, trying to brush it off as nothing.

"Just wondering".

"I can check Google if you want," Ino offered, discreetly retrieving her phone from her bag.

"Ok". Sakura accepted.

"Outis," Ino muttered, a little incredulous as she checked it up. Then, apparently finding what she was searching for, whispered: "It says that it's a pseudonym. Authors use it to keep their identity hidden. It means '_nobody'_ or '_no one'_ in Greek".

Sakura thanked her softly, turning back in her seat. Ino continued to stare at the screen of her cellphone, brow furrowing.

"Where did you get it from?" she whispered. "You don't have Greek in your curriculum".

But Sakura wasn't listening. She was engrossed in her phone, clicking away on the screen to make a text message. It so happened that Shikamaru had a perfect view of the screen, and what she wrote there only intrigued him more.

_You are Outis._

_You are no one. _

* * *

><p><strong>Characters:<strong>

Sakumo Hatake - is the father of Kakashi Hatake and a renowned, high-ranking ninja in Konohagakure. After a failed mission where he valued the lives of his teammates more than the mission itself, he was dishonored and villified by the rest of the village. He became deeply depressed and eventually committed suicide. In my story he was a renowned military leader who failed a military operation similar to the one in the canon-series, and committed suicide.

Haza Sarutobi – the fictional older brother of Asuma Sarutobi, and the father of Konohamaru. He worked as Waizu Haruno's attorney. He was shot and killed in the massacre ten years ago.

Tashiro Haruno - the ancestor of Sakura Haruno.

* * *

><p><strong>History<strong>:

Note: None of these historical events or persons are in any way connected to the Naruto world in reality. I am simply trying to create a backdrop to Konoha's history.

Kamakura period - is a period of Japanese history that marks the governance by the Kamakura Shogunate. The Kamakura period ended in 1333 AD, with the destruction of the shogunate and the short reestablishment of imperial rule, under Emperor Go-Daigo.

Sengoku period - was a time of social upheaval, political intrigue, and nearly constant military conflict that lasted roughly from the middle of the 15th century to the beginning of the 17th century

Ashikaga Takauji was the founder and first shogun of the Ashikaga shogunate. Prior to that he was a general of the Kamakura shogunate and sieged it in 1333, contributing to its downfall and the re-establishment of imperial rule.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

Jiji – grandfather

Sensei – teacher

Hai – yes

Tou-san – father

Kaa-san – mother

Shogun - a hereditary commander-in-chief in feudal Japan. Because of the military power concentrated in his hands and the consequent weakness of the nominal head of state (the mikado or emperor), the shogun was generally the real ruler of the country until feudalism was abolished in 1867.

Sandaime Hokage – The Third Hokage

**Others**:

Pencak silat - indigenous martial arts created in Indonesia

Rani – the wife of a raja, is an Indian term for a monarch or princely ruler. Although it is a republic, royalty still exists.

* * *

><p>AN: Finally another chapter is done, and once more far later than I had anticipated. It's been a busy few weeks, as it usually is close to the summer holidays, and therefore it likely will take another few weeks before the next chapter is up.

You might notice that this chapter is shorter than the others. That's because there is a lot of information in every chapter and it's been pointed out to me that it is difficult to absorb all of it when each chapter is so long. And going back and reading the previous chapters I realize that some of them are a bit overwhelming, because they're so long. So I'm trying a new route to see if it the story will be easier to follow like this.

Anyway, there's not a lot of drama in this chapter, but there is more backstory, such as the relationship between the Uchihas and the Harunos, as well as the relationships between the characters. I hope you liked it!

And thank you to all of my reviewers, LilyVampire, lauchoco92, offtherockers, Luka1Sakura, Lerithanei and yattsy!

To LilyVampire – thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm happy that you like the quotes at the beginning of the chapters, it takes me some time to find the ones that suits best, so I'm glad you pointed that out . I'm also glad you like the way the relationship between Tenten and Neji is developing, and the confrontation between Sayuri and Serena. And thank you for pointing out that missing sentence, so I could fix it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you'll review again soon!

To lauchoco92 – thank you for reviewing again! I'm happy you liked the previous chapter, and I hope you liked this one as well, although it's been a while since the last update.

To offtherockers – thank you for reviewing! I'm happy that you liked my story, and hope you'll review again!

To Luka1Sakura – thank you for reviewing again! I hope you'll like this chapter as well, although the update has been late again.

To Lerithanei – thank you so much for reviewing my story! I'm always glad to see new reviewers, and I'm happy that I managed to catch your interest. And I hope you liked this chapter as well!

To Yattsy – thank you so much for reviewing! I am always happy to see new reviewers! I'm glad that you found the prologue intriguing. I too find it very hard to sympathize with Sasuke when I read fanfics about him losing his family, so I tried to create a new perspective and found the scene at the graveyard very fitting, as well as setting the mood for the story. I'm also glad that you liked the way I made the Harunos more influential. We really don't know much about Sakura's family, and so I thought I would make the Harunos a family with much more power than what I've read in other fanfics.

As for your second review, I do get your point about the lengthy chapters and the multiple POVs. Since I'm writing the story I can see the large picture and all those little details, so I haven't realized that it must be difficult for readers to get all the information just by reading the chapters once. So I've tried to shorten this chapter so that it'll be easier to follow. I always appreciate constructive criticism, there's always room to improve, after all, so thank you for that. I'm also glad that you pointed out the things you enjoyed about the story. I do try to compose this as an actual novel, because I'm honestly incapable of writing short stories and one shots (my plots tend to get bigger rather than smaller), and I'm really happy that you like that. As for precision I think that it is rather important to this kind of story because of all the places and the characters you have to keep track of. I also describe a lot, from the clothes to the places so that I can show a clearer picture of how I envision Konoha and the characters to be.

So, I have really appreciated your reviews, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter enough to leave another one for me ;).

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><p>And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!<p> 


	9. Family Affairs

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Family Affairs**

_Happy families are all alike. Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way._

– Leo Tolstoy

* * *

><p><em>17th of August <em>

Hyuuga Compound

Aya was waiting on the steps of the west wing when the limousine rolled onto the gravel driveway. Her normally cheery demeanor had melted away to anxiousness, and her fingers were compulsively clenching and unclenching at her sides. Hinata squared her shoulders upon seeing her, knowing what lay ahead. She briefly met Neji's indiscernible gaze, and she could see how his fingers flexed. Remembering his own numerous punishments, she was sure. Hanabi threw her a look, one of strange sympathy that unsettled her.

It had always been a rare occurrence for her to show any kind of emotion for her elder sibling.

The two of them had never been close growing up, Hiashi devoting all his time to groom Hanabi into becoming the perfect Hyuuga, neglecting Hinata in the process. Their mother in turn had focused all of her attentions on Hinata to make up for the absence of her father, clearly favoring her over her youngest child. She had more or less forsaken her role as a parent for Hanabi when it became clear to her what her husband's intentions for the line of succession were. She had fervently protested the plans of making Hanabi the heir, and in many ways had detested the toddler for usurping her older sister's claim, and for stealing the affections of Hiashi. At one point she apparently had exclaimed that she should never have agreed to having another child, though Hinata put little faith in her cackling great-aunts. But the result had been that Hanabi, painfully aware of her mother's animosity, longed for her affections above anything else, and Hinata longed for the affections of her father that she had once enjoyed.

The quiet resentment between the two sisters had been inevitable. It was a silent war, a building tension with looks that spoke volumes and the small downward tilts of their mouths as they conversed with rehearsed politeness during meals. Not even in the wake of Hinote's death had they been able to fix the frays of their relationship. Hanabi had remained stonily silent since the funeral, unable to show much sympathy for her bedridden and broken older sister. And Hinata was too lost in her own grief to truly care for anything at all.

So for Hanabi to show sympathy, however briefly, was enough to understand the extent of the trouble she had gotten herself into.

In another family, in another clan even, lipstick and a pair of high heels wouldn't have sparked much of an outrage. To them the concept of being punished for such a trivial matter was ridiculous. But the Hyuugas lived by strict rules and high expectations, and her actions at breakfast were seen as an act of rebellion. And Hyuugas didn't take well to rebels – and certainly not the heir apparent.

When the limousine eased to a stop, she slowly climbed out of the vehicle, quickly followed by Neji. Aya smiled, but it cracked at the edges. Hinata tightened her hold on her bag, almost clutching it.

"Miss Hinata," she greeted, with cheeriness that was strained. She tried to keep smiling, but it fell as she conveyed her message. "Your father awaits you, in the dojo".

To herself, Hinata thought it was worth it. Being able to feel alive was worth the consequences. Someone tugged at the strap of her bag. She turned her head to see Neji, fingers curled around the leather strap. She let it slide from her shoulder, allowing it to fall into his grasp. They shared a look, indiscernible to Aya and Hanabi, both untouched by the hand of Hiashi.

And then she turned to face Aya, allowing the skittish blonde to lead the way.

The west wing was quiet, as it had always been since her kaa-san died. Hinote had always been one to enjoy company, and arranged tea parties at least twice a week; once with her friends, and once with the women of the clan. Of course the latter had sparked outrage with the elders, as they were never seated after status. It was unthinkable to place a member of the branch family at the head of the table, denying some of their most respected members their right to be seated by the mistress of the clan. Hinote hadn't cared for protocol, which had made her quite unpopular amongst the older women, particularly Hiashi's five aunts.

Aside from the controversial tea parties there had always been music; the sweet tenors of the piano in the blue salon, or the gramophone playing Tchaikovsky, Strauss, or Grieg. And then there was pealing laughter, long conversations over the phone, garden parties with scones and biscuits and jasmine tea.

Now all of that was gone.

The only thing left were the memories. Painful, taunting reminders of what could never be again. She had never quite understood why Serena and Sakura would move from the beautiful manor house with the peach tree and rose garden before. Now she did. Wished that she too could run away from the ghosts, like they had.

But she couldn't. She was forever chained to this place.

They went to her room first, changing her into the appropriate robes before making their way through the compound. People were preparing for dinner, the smells of yakiniku - grilled meat and vegetables, gyoza and baked seafood streaming out of the numerous kitchens scattered across the compound. They moved through the garden leading to the old shoin, but passed through an allée of plum trees which led into the eastern courtyard, mostly referred to as the training grounds. Here were several buildings, dojos, connected by corridors which lead further into the complex which surrounded the great white keep where her ojii-san resided. The dojos, and the courtyard was empty, the members having retreated to clean themsevles before dinner. The sliding doors of the karate hall were open, silently awaiting her.

Aya tried to smile reassuringly, but once more it was too forced, too sharp. Hinata patted her arm gently, feeling bad for the young woman. She had never been prepared for the traditions of this clan, the manner of disciplining their children. Detested it, much like Hinote had. Many a time she had interfered when Hiashi was disciplining Hinata and Neji, once going as far as to step between the two, forcing her husband to stand down. He had never laid hand on her, refusing to do so, and also knowing that Hinote, with her upbringing, would not tolerate being struck by her husband. He did other things, however, remaining frostily silent for days, weeks even, ignoring her presence until she apologized. It had given Hinata's great-aunts, the five cackling hens as they were privately called by Kō and others, another reason to mock her.

She hadn't cared, however. As clan mistress, she had ranked higher than any of them.

Hinata paused by the shōji doors, removing her sandals and placing them by the wall before entering. Her bare feet touched the wooden floor. Inside the air was cool, for the white keep cast a long shadow on this part of the complex. Pale light penetrated the translucent washi paper of the windows. There were white mats scattered on the worn floorboards, punching bags and training dummies in the corners. At the center stood her father, tall, rank, dressed in white robes. His back was to her, but he knew she was there.

"Close the door," he ordered, voice cold.

Obediently, she turned, grasped the edge of the sliding door. Aya was still standing in the garden, hands clenched. She tried to smile reassuringly, but couldn't quite make the edges of her mouth tip upwards. So when no reassurance could be given, her eyes lowered to the floor, not wishing to see Aya's expression. It was too much like her kaa-san's.

Hurt too much to be reminded of it.

Without a word, she slid the door shut.

* * *

><p>Haruno Complex<p>

It was close to five when Sakura returned home, tired and anxious and not in the mood for conservatory balls. Serena hadn't been home when she got there, so she used the opportunity to stick her head in a box of vanilla ice cream and ponder on her exceptionally bad luck. And when she got tired of mulling over Sasuke Uchiha and bathrooms and _Outis_, she contemplated hiding under the bed and never coming out again. After giving herself a pep talk about attending next year instead and had gotten into a pair of slacks and her favorite t-shirt (a faded gray thing she'd stolen from her uncle when she was four), she was ready to curl up on the couch with a mountain of popcorn and cry a river to Pocahontas.

She was just about to dig up the movie from the depths of her walk-in-closet (_tossed in there three years ago because Keira teased her for watching baby films_) when Serena knocked on her door. She hadn't gotten dressed yet, wearing dark jeans and a sweater, and looked utterly astonished to see Sakura dressed as if she were to go to bed. A dark eyebrow arched as her gaze swept over her form.

"Are you planning to go like that tonight?" she inquired, pointing a finger at Sakura's attire. She looked down at herself, then shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't feel like going."

Both eyebrows arched.

"Don't _feel_ like going?" she repeated, incredulous. "You have been talking about the Conservatory Ball since fifth grade."

_Right after Mira Himoto had that idea ingrained in her head, that is,_ Serena thought with a smile. Once it had been planted there she hadn't talked about anything else for weeks.

"This is the first year you can attend".

"_Exactly_." Sakura exclaimed. "I can attend it next year".

Serena's gaze slimmed a fraction. Slowly she placed the box she'd been holding down on the nearest tabletop, then walked up to her sister. Grasped her shoulders, peered into her eyes.

"Has something happened today?" she inquired gently, in the manner she always did when she suspected something had upset her. In elementary school there had been the bullies, in junior high it had been the strain of the entrance examinations to St. Konoha. There hadn't been much that upset her in her first year in high school, as anonymous as she had been. But her sister had always had an uncanny ability to know when she was feeling down.

"_No_," she lied, turning her head away as she slid down on the edge of the bed. Serena peered down at her for a moment, before sitting down beside her.

"You know," she said, a half-smile on her lips, "I can tell when you're lying to me."

Sakura knew that. Rarely, if ever, was she able to outwit her at her own game. But she wasn't willing to admit it just then.

"I'm _not_ lying".

"Fine." Serena conceded, smilingly. Reached out to pat her back comfortingly. "Come to me when you're ready to tell me what's bothering you, then."

"_But,"_ she said, rising from the bed, "you are going. You'll regret it otherwise."

"I don't want to go!" she protested, crossing her arms over her chest in a petulant manner. Her sister remained unfazed by her outburst, unyielding in her decision.

"And besides," Sakura added, grasping at her last straw, "I don't have a dress".

As she said the words she knew she'd lost. Serena's smile widened.

"That's not an argument after what you said at the breakfast table." Serena retorted playfully. "I've found you the perfect dress".

She retrieved the box she had left on the vanity table. Sakura despite her protests was intrigued, and straightened on the edge of the bed when Serena returned with it, placing it in her lap. It felt light in her hold, and there was no designer logo to hint of what was in it. Slowly she lifted the lid off the box, revealing a thin layer of silk paper. As she brushed it aside, there was silk, in the deepest shape of emerald, rippling like water. Her heart skipped a beat.

She remembered this silk.

Eagerly she pulled it up, the box falling to the floor as she rose from the bed to watch herself in her floor-length mirror. The silk tumbled to her feet, brushing her toes, and looked exactly as it had the first time she'd seen it.

She made a squeal that made Serena's smile broaden, twirling on the carpet so the skirts flared.

"Oh my God, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed once she'd stopped twirling and moved in front of the mirror again to admire the cut, the daring neckline. Turned her head to look at her sister with sparkling eyes and a wide smile that could melt any heart of ice.

"You're seriously letting me wear this?" she asked, giddily continuing to press the material against her front. Even if she'd told her she couldn't wear it, she would never let go of it willingly, Serena thought wryly.

"Of course." She said. "I didn't spend thousands of yen to have this fitted just for it to look pretty in a box."

Sakura pivoted on her feet and threw herself around her sister's neck, causing them both to nearly topple over.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, clinging onto her neck for another moment before scurrying back to the mirror. After admiring the dress for another minute or two, Serena came with a suggestion.

"Why don't you try it on?"

And she did, quickly shedding her comfy clothes down to her undergarments, stepping into the dress. Allowed Serena to help with the zipper at her back, adjusting the delicate straps. Slowly she stepped in front of her reflection, eyes wide and gleaming with admiration. The silk clung to her form perfectly, and she felt strangely safe and secure within the caress of the material. It was a mermaid rising to meet her in her own full-length mirror. Her hand smoothed over the expensive fabric, marveling in the way it seemed to accentuate her form and make her skin glow. She looked…she didn't dare think it.

Serena stepped behind her, placing her hands on her shoulders. She smiled softly at their reflections; Sakura smiled back. A rare, tranquil moment.

"You look just like mother," she told her.

It struck a chord.

It shouldn't have, shouldn't have made the waterworks roll. But it did.

The tears came before she even noticed they were there.

"Hey, what is it?" Serena turned her around to face her. Sakura sniffled, and would rather say nothing was wrong. But that wouldn't be true, and she concealed that poorly.

"I miss them." She admitted, a sob escaping.

Missed having them there, and the moments they were supposed to share. Moments like these, when her mother should help her dress and talk about when she herself had been a debutante, in New York.

"I just always imagined they'd be here for these things."

And by God, she hated herself for saying that. Hated herself for weeping over something that couldn't be undone. Even more so because she was weeping in front of Serena.

When she was younger, and angrier, and _vicious_, she had always made sure to point out that they were dead, and blamed Serena for it. She had in fact gone to great lengths to make it known. And while her sister had silently taken every word, forgiven her at every turn, Sakura had never quite managed to forgive herself for the things she had said.

And because of that, because of her guilt, it hurt more to see Serena's sympathetic expression, that gentle smile, than any other reaction she might have gotten from her.

"I miss them too." She said, hugging her.

The admission gave comfort, despite it all. And so did her smell, so much alike their mother's, yet all the same her sister's own unique scent. She closed her eyes, holding onto her.

It was Serena who let go first, stepping back to look at her. Smiling gently, one hand on her shoulder, the other gently cupping her cheek, she said:

"But they would have been _so_ proud of you." Her words brought more tears, despite their purpose to comfort.

"Mother would fret all day and boast all evening," a tiny smile broke out, utterly convinced that she would have, "and father would proudly keep you on his arm and scare the living daylights out of any guy who'd ask you for a dance."

The last part was probably a lie, for their father had never been good at scaring anyone. He had just been too likeable. And as if catching onto her thought, Serena continued:

"And if not our father, then Kenji would. No one would dare take you out on a date after that."

And that was something Sakura could believe. Uncle Kenji had always been the most charming, the most likeable of the Harunos. But that made him all the more terrifying. The worst part probably was that he could be terrifying while smiling. Like that time when he'd cheerily informed Itachi and Shisui Uchiha that he would crush their balls if they snuck into Serena's bedroom again.

"I know they're not here," her sister continued, breaking her train of thoughts, "but we're gonna make the best of it."

As we always do.

The words didn't have to be spoken.

Sakura nodded, putting on a brave smile as she wiped her cheeks. She felt lighter now, the grief that had taken over washing away. This melancholia usually never lingered these days, though it had resurfaced more frequently. It usually did, this close to the anniversary of their deaths, but even more so because of all the odd occurrences.

"Tonight you'll shine." Serena continued, smiling reassuringly. "Don't let anything hold you back."

"Now, jump in the shower." She let go of her, stepping back. Helped her out of the delicate dress, placing it carefully on the edge of the bed. It was something Sakura could imagine their mother do.

"I'll help you get ready afterwards." She headed for the door, probably to get dressed herself.

"Serena." Sakura called softly. Her sister paused in the doorway, turning her head. She had an almost distant look in her eyes, making Sakura feel even more compelled to say something comforting. She tried to smile, the edges of her mouth twitching uneasily.

"They'd be proud of you too."

Serena was surprised at her words, and for a moment stood frozen. Then her eyes glazed; her smile cracking.

"Thank you."

It was barely a whisper, as if she struggled to speak. She turned her face away, fingers curling along the edge of the doorframe.

"Go get ready now."

* * *

><p>Itachi's Apartment<p>

Itachi hadn't been home when he got back from school. Sasuke suspected it was because he wanted to put off getting ready for the Conservatory Ball. His aniki had never been fond of these obligations, much like Sasuke himself. He found them to be tedious affairs with the same people and the same talk and the same insincerity as when he was a child. But Sasuke couldn't deny that there was another reason for why he had little desire to attend this particular ball. It was a stupid thing really, one that normally wouldn't have affected him – hadn't Sakura Haruno slapped him for it, that is.

It had happened during lunch break after the history lesson. He had been headed down the corridor towards the courtyard where he was supposed to meet up with the rest of the boys in their class to discuss the upcoming basketball season. Aside from lacrosse and swimming, basketball was one of the major sports teams they had at St. Konoha, and one of three sports in which they competed on a national level. Normally they would be taking these meetings after school, before practice started, but since nearly everyone on the team would be busy preparing for the ball that evening, and it was important to discuss the fact that Gai had taken over Kakashi's job as coach that year, they had scheduled a meeting in the courtyard.

Headed there, he'd suddenly been yanked into the girls' bathroom. Rarely was he caught unaware, but this was something he hadn't expected. He had stumbled backwards trying to catch his balance as the door clicked shut and the key turned, locking them in.

Apparently Haruno had come chasing earlier than he had anticipated. In all honesty he hadn't thought she would have the guts to do a confrontation at school, but apparently her temper had clouded whatever judgment she had left.

Clearly, he thought to himself, he had to stop underestimating her.

She was in a wild fury when she turned to face him, her cheeks red and she wore a rather unsuitably grim expression, her hair in slight disarray.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded to know, practically seething.

The edges of his mouth curled.

"Payback," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he peered down at her arrogantly. Not quite the truth, he supposed, although the way she had demeaned him in Kakashi-sensei's class had bruised his ego more than he was willing to admit.

He shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"Now we're even".

"Not by a long shot Uchiha!" she shot back at him with an accusing finger, taking three steps towards him. Her eyes were dark, almost black with fury. He hadn't noticed before how expressive her eyes were.

"What I did was nothing compared to what you said".

"Everyone knows your clan torched the Hyuugas' land," he replied, nonchalantly, leaning down just a bit to make a point of the differences in their heights. Trying to make her feel smaller, although it wasn't very successful.

"And everyone knows _your_ clan had Hashirama Senju assassinated," was her response, much calmer now. Her lips curled the same way they had done in history class. His gaze slimmed at her words. He didn't like having his clan's name smudged by some little school girl, even if he had started this game.

"Like they know about your family and the terrorists?"

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she went rigid. Stared in utter disbelief at his face, unable to fully comprehend that he had said that. And then just as suddenly her temper flared again, and her hand shot through the air. Before it could send him sprawling on the bathroom floor, however, his fingers had captured her wrist, preventing it from reaching his face. She'd struggled futilely to wrench herself from his grasp, but he was superior both in height and strength. He peered down at her with his indiscernible black gaze, eyes hooded, as if she wasn't worth his full attention. It made her only angrier, but she had ceased fighting, instead resorting to glare at him.

"_Bastard_," she seethed, teeth bared. "You have no right to speak about my family like that!"

He said nothing, simply watched her.

In all sincerity, he hadn't thought as far as how to smoothen this situation once he got her alone. It was something he had never had the need to do before – hence, he had no idea of how to handle it. And as he came to realize that, he was at loss of what to do next. Unprepared, uncertain. She'd already proven to be more difficult to handle than he would ever have expected. The things he normally did had the opposite effect on her than what he was used to.

His continued staring apparently unnerved her, for she tried to tug her wrist from his grasp again.

"Would you let go?" she asked, a little meeker now than before. He didn't give into her request. Knew that if he did she'd scurry out of here and the opportunity would be lost. Then he'd be forced to chase her. Pursue her.

It had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Even though Sakura hadn't been that girl, he would never be chasing anyone again.

"Let go!" Sakura snapped, trying to use her free hand to pry his fingers from her wrist. Had almost managed to wrench herself lose when he took action. In retrospect, it hadn't been the smartest course of action. In fact, it probably was the worst thing he possibly could have done. A cliché, even.

He'd kissed her.

Sakura's eyes had gone impossibly wide, the rant on the tip of her tongue rolling back into her mouth when his hand coiled into her hair and he lowered his face to press his lips to hers.

The kiss had been calm and subtly dominant, his mouth a firm, even pressure against her own. He hadn't been deterred when her lips remained unresponsive. If anything he grew more persistent, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of her lips, a thumb brushing the sensitive skin beneath her ear. It elicited a small gasp from her, enough for her lips to part under his. He took advantage of it, his tongue prying into her warm mouth, even though he knew he had already gone too far. But he hadn't expected her lips to be so soft, that he would sort of _like_ the taste of strawberries, and realized too late that he had seriously underestimated that fucking _ache_ in the pit of his stomach. She was soft and warm and adorable, had he cared for such things.

But he _didn't_.

Couldn't.

He must have been possessed, he thought, pouring more tomato juice. Otherwise he certainly wouldn't have kissed _Sakura Haruno_ in the _girls' bathroom_. He wouldn't have _kept __on_ kissing her.

But he did.

Until Sakura turned her face away, and in a moment of surprise, as he absorbed what he had just done, and his sheer lack of self-control , she had wormed her way out of his grasp, eyes wide, dark and blank. She had raised her arm, and although Sasuke had seen it coming, he wasn't quick enough to prevent her palm from connecting with his face.

She said nothing to him after she had lowered her hand, simply stared, out of breath.

Then she had turned, unlocked the door and walked out on him.

That was the second time a girl had walked out on him.

The latter in a more literal sense, but the reminder had left him in a foul mood. And it hadn't gotten any better as it quickly dawned to him that he had done more damage to his own plan than he thought was possible. And he didn't quite know how to fix it.

So in a rather Uchiha-unlike fashion he'd contemplated sticking his head in the sand for the evening and simply not attending. Of course he didn't have much of a choice, as his aniki would be dragging him by his collar all the way to Tanglewood whether he liked it or not, or worse, Mira Himoto would hunt him down and scare him into compliance. Cackling hen she might be, but when it came to these social obligations she was much more like the cobra her daughter was so often compared to by Itachi's bunch of misfit friends.

Therefore, after mulling over a glass of tomato juice and omusubi with tuna which he'd gotten from the convenience store on the corner of the street, he'd trudged his way from the kitchen to his bedroom to get changed. However, as he went through the living room area he heard familiar voices speaking quietly at the entrance door. The entrance was at the end of a long corridor where the bedrooms were, obscured in shadow as the lights weren't on. But Sasuke didn't have to see to know who it was, and discreetly he slinked towards the wall, curious.

Though it was dark, they both appeared to just have arrived from their respective jobs, Itachi in one of his standard business suits and Madara still donning the green flak jacket iconic for Konoha's police force. They were standing opposite of each other, Madara a few inches taller.

And while tense little conversations weren't unusual between the two, Sasuke couldn't for the life of him comprehend why his uncle was here. He had never stepped foot in this apartment before, Itachi having made it clear that he was not welcome. Nor, Sasuke thought, had his uncle ever had a desire to come on visit. That simply wasn't his thing.

"I expect you to uphold your part of the agreement tonight," Madara spoke in a light drawl, though the command in his tone could not be mistaken. Itachi stared coldly.

Sasuke's brow furrowed in confusion.

_Agreement_?

"I always do," Itachi replied, icily.

"Not according to what I've heard." Madara's voice became dark and sinister, _threatening_, as it often did when people failed to follow orders. Rarely had Sasuke been on the receiving end of it, but he had certainly witnessed many who had. Often in the privacy of his uncle's office, where he used to peak through the door leading into the library.

"And who have you heard that from?" Itachi demanded to know, calmly, lightly, as if not really expecting to get an answer.

A correct assumption.

"That is of no concern," Madara replied, unfazed. "Suffice it to say I trust its testimony."

Itachi said nothing, gaze icy. He turned, meant to march down the hall to the living room space. Madara's hand intervened, cutting off his path, fingers resting lightly against the wall. He caught sight of Sasuke, who slinked further against the wall, only one dark eye visible. Not because he feared Itachi – he couldn't care less about him, but if Madara knew he was listening in on the conversation there would be certain consequences.

But his uncle has his back to him now, facing Itachi, and wouldn't have continued this conversation if he had known there were people within earshot. There was a silence, crackling with energy as Itachi met his uncle's unwavering gaze with a glint of defiance that Sasuke hadn't noticed before. He knew Itachi hated Madara, for reasons he couldn't or wouldn't understand. And Madara thought Itachi a weak boy, not even able to attend the funeral of his own parents. And ungrateful too, for the way he had returned. Sasuke understood that, felt it the same way. Only, whereas his uncle seemed inclined to forgive Itachi's abandonment, Sasuke was not.

If anything, the abandonment was what he hated him for the most.

"Don't overstep again." He heard Madara say, softly, ominously. Could imagine the way his uncle's piercing red gaze peered down at Itachi. He waited, allowing his expectant silence to do the prompting. Then, as Itachi still refused to speak;

"Or this arrangement is broken."

His hand pushed off the wall and he passed Itachi by towards the door. Itachi remained still, shoulders tense and fingers clenching, though his face remained a mask of indifference. Madara paused in the doorway, throwing a look over his shoulder that made his black mane ripple and causing Sasuke to jump away from the corridor, heart in his throat.

"And keep that fiancée of yours on a tight leash tonight."

Sasuke remained pressed against the wall, holding his breath. Heard the door shut behind his uncle. Then silence. Not that awkward silence that normally existed between the brothers when they were alone in the apartment and they tried to ignore the bedazzled elephant in the room.

This was a different silence.

A dangerous one.

His heart didn't calm down, his pulse throbbing loudly.

Then it was shattered by the sound of Itachi's footsteps, approaching. Immediately he straightened himself, tried to appear nonchalant. Itachi didn't look at him as he entered the living room, moving straight for the kitchen. Sasuke thought to sneak off to his bedroom, pretend that nothing of this had happened.

But something was nagging at him.

What exactly would Itachi and Madara have an agreement about?

So he followed him into the kitchen area, where he was rummaging the fridge for something edible. Found nothing, preceded to the cupboards. There wasn't anything better there, mostly steak-flavored instant ramen, which he detested more than sweets, and boxes of uncooked rice which he wasn't in a mood to prepare.

"Sasuke," he acknowledged when he rounded the kitchen island, still keeping his back to him. Closing the cupboard, he turned and went for the liquor cabinet.

"What were you two talking about?" he asked, following him. Itachi resurfaced with a bottle of 40 year old Bruichladdich whiskey. It was the brand their father used to import boxes of from Scotland, storing them in the large wine cellar until he had a good excuse to open one. Or three, depending on his company.

"Exactly what you overheard," Itachi replied, moving past him again towards the counter. "Go get dressed." His words were punctuated by slamming the bottle on the sleek granite.

Sasuke's gaze slimmed.

Oh, he wasn't going to give up that easily.

"What sort of agreement do you have with uncle?" he demanded, following him. He did not acknowledge him, grasping a crystal tumbler from one of the cabinets. Ignored him as he opened the bottle, filled the tumbler with golden liquor.

It made Sasuke see red.

"What the fuck is going on?" he seethed, grabbing hold of Itachi's arm, causing the liquor to spill. He whirled around to face him, dark eyes almost red. Sasuke let go as if burnt, taking a step backwards. Then he held his ground, meeting Itachi's fiery glare, not willing to back down to a coward.

A traitor.

"Nothing which concerns you." Itachi said, gaze ominous. And despite his stony expression, looked more terrifying than Sasuke had ever seen him. For a moment even, he thought he'd lash out and punch him.

"Get dressed." He ordered.

And in the face of Itachi's wrath, Sasuke did as he was told.

* * *

><p>Himoto Manor<p>

Seven pm had come and trickled by half an hour ago.

Tenten glanced at the grandfather clock with irritation. They were going to be late. And she wasn't even the one who wanted to go to this bloody event.

Conservatory Balls.

Inwardly she snorted.

It was in every way a test for the debutantes of the season; their first taste of high society and all the etiquette and tradition that came with it. Their first entrance, their first descending of a staircase, their first dance. It was a royal pain in the ass.

At least Tenten thought so.

She'd already been through the torture once, the year before. And because of it she really hated whoever it was that had introduced these ideas about debutantes to Konoha in the 50s. Probably some bloody Englishman. Or an American. For not only were the grievous tea parties and balls where she made a fool out of herself with her two left feet – there were dinner parties and charity galas and all sorts of ridiculous pomp that left her with splitting headaches and aching feet and nightmares about silk skirts and tiaras and falling down staircases.

Although it no longer was an obligation for her to attend, seeing as she had already been introduced to society the previous year, and people sympathized with those attending their last and most strenuous year in high school, she had wanted to attend if just for the sake of seeing her friends go through the same. Although she suspected they would actually enjoy all the pomp and glitter. Her mother had been positively _delighted_ with her decision, having half-expected having to drag her daughter kicking and screaming through the glass doors of Tanglewood Conservatories. As some odd form of reward (_to her anyway_), her mother had indulged in a rather expensive black Oscar de la Renta creation for her to wear. And while it wasn't her style, she had to admit it was rather pretty, and it was nice to soak in the limelight of attention for a change, since her sister had a tendency to outshine her. at every turn. It was a strapless number, with voluminous skirts of chiffon, embellished with black leaves that sparkled in the light. Her hair had been gathered in a tasteful chignon, and while she had never been one to don jewelry, she had conceded to wear a pair of diamond earrings her father had given to her after the stylist had left the house.

She didn't look too bad, she supposed, although she would never be a match for her sister. It was a curse she'd come to accept long ago. She pulled a face in front of the gilded mirror in the hallway, tugging at the skirt of her dress, just for the sake of it. Her mother ignored her, as she often did when she was behaving childishly, and her papa had to quell a smile over the rim of his wineglass when she grimaced at him in the mirror, so he would not be on the receiving end of Mira's ire. Sayuri had yet to grace them with her presence, although the stylist had come and gone and the dress for this event had been picked out in June. Why a girl needed three hours to get ready for this was something that went beyond her (_and her father's_) understanding. Only Mira sympathized, but then again, two hours and fifty four minutes wasn't too far off from the precious time Sayuri was wasting on getting 'prettier'.

She suspected it had something to do with Serena attending as Sakura's chaperone.

That fact alone had brightened her day considerably. Though they probably wouldn't resort to pulling each other's' hair, it would be enjoyable to see Sayuri squirm and fidget under the weight of her insecurities. Likely she'd be clinging onto Itachi's arm all night, afraid that he might stray the moment she let him go. A prospect highly unlikely, but one could always hope.

"Isn't she ready yet?" Rui inquired, glancing irritably at the grandfather clock perched merrily by the staircase.

"Oh, let her be, Rui," Mira sighed, applying the last layer of lipstick, pursing her lips to the mirror. She looked good in a gown of blue taffeta, slightly off the shoulders to make a perfect frame for the teardrop diamond necklace she had been given by Rui for their 25th wedding anniversary. Though aging, her shoulders and neck remained as graceful and youthful as when she was twenty and had just won Miss Konoha the third time in a row. One of her greatest triumphs.

Tenten barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"We're going to be late," Rui grumbled, taking another sip of his Chardonnay.

"_Fashionably_ late, dear," Mira corrected, rolling her eyes as she fluffed her brown curls one last time.

"Two and a half hour is not fashionable, Mira, no matter what echelon one comes from," was his snarky reply, causing his wife's gaze to slim.

Tenten was grateful that she wasn't the cause of it.

But before Mira could start a tirade they were quite literally saved by the bell.

Harold, their butler, glided out of the shadows of the kitchen in his vampiric fashion to answer the door. He was as always impeccably attired in his dark tux with the pale blue brocade waistcoat and pocket watch, looking like he was pulled out of an Edwardian drama. He re-emerged quietly from the vestibule moments after, head held high as he announced the guest.

"Mr. Itachi and Sasuke Uchiha, sir".

Like you needed a genius to figure that out.

Immediately Mira lit up like a kid on Christmas Day, turning with the widest smile since Sayuri's engagement to face her future son-in-law. And while Tenten shuddered at the thought, she had to admit that he looked damn fine in his black silk tuxedo with that slim necktie.

Utterly fuckable, was she to use Ino's term of sexy men who knew how to dress themselves.

"Itachi!" she greeted loud and sweet, taffeta skirts rustling as she went to plant a kiss on his cheek. He remained rigid as she did so, but offered her one of those ghost smiles of his and kissed her hand like he must have been taught since he was a child.

"Mrs. Himoto," he greeted in turn.

"_Mira_," she corrected, as she had done for the past six months to get him on first name basis. She'd probably need another six months to ease up the rigidness of her Uchiha son-in-law.

Rui went to greet him as well, smile broad if not a little forced. He had always been cautious of the Uchihas, more so than the Harunos. Had never liked the idea of being associated with them, whether by marriage or by business, though he had nothing personal against Itachi. They shook hands and after all the pleasantries had been exchanged and Harold had offered Itachi a glass of dark wine, they retreated slightly, speaking in murmuring tones.

Conspiratorial tones, as her father would call them.

_Strange_, Tenten thought, interest peaked. She had never taken the two for being close enough to conspire together.

But she was quickly distracted when her gaze found Sasuke standing in the shadows of the vestibule, looking rather unwilling to enter. Grudgingly she had to admit that he also looked good in his tux. Armani cut, dark blue silk, almost black. Would have looked better hadn't he had that ever-dark and bitter expression. He didn't remain in the darkness for long, for in that very moment Mira's gaze zeroed in on him. If possible her smile widened and her eyes got an extra sparkle.

"Sasuke-kun!" she exclaimed, even more high-pitched than before. Before he could make a retreat she was upon him, planting two big kisses on each cheek, leaving them smudged red. Tenten had to conceal her laugh as a cough, for the expression he wore was priceless. It was a cross between embarrassment, enhanced by his already red cheeks, and murderous intent. For a split second he looked ready to shove her away, but one sharp look from his brother subdued him.

"How are you, dear?" Mira inquired, oblivious to his foul mood. She was wearing her rose-colored Uchiha glasses again, blind to their faults.

"Fine, Mrs. Himoto," he replied with forced politeness, fingers twitching, repressing the urge to wipe his cheeks.

"Good to hear, dear." His left eye twitched.

"Why don't you go talk to Tenten?" she suggested, much like one would talk to a toddler. A vein popped above his left eye.

Tenten barely suppressed a groan, not at all willing to be all nicey-nice to the Uchiha bastard. Or go along with her mother's morbid fantasy of hooking her up with him. As if one Uchiha wasn't bad enough.

But of course Sasuke did as he was told, with his brother's gaze boring into the back of his skull like a science fiction death laser. When he approached she offered him one of her syrupy sweet smiles as she too was under watchful surveillance by her mother, who somehow had gotten it into her head that she wanted both Uchiha brothers married into the family. She might have tried to marry Madara into the family as well, had she had another daughter.

Fortunately she hadn't.

"Sasuke," she greeted sweetly, though her eyes told a different story. She still had that sudden urge to strangle him, particularly after Ino sent her a text message involving Sakura, a bathroom and a certain Uchiha. Since neither Madara nor Itachi would demean themselves to go into a bathroom at St. Konoha, there was only one possibility. And the bastard was standing right in front of her.

"Himoto." He greeted, not even bothering to look at her. He accepted a flute of sparkling water from Harold when it was offered, kept his eyes trained on his brother, who continued his conversation with her father. But it wasn't his usual glare, Tenten noted as she too accepted a flute of water.

It was a cautious look.

"And here she is!" Mira exclaimed, catching everyone's attention. Immediately they were drawn to the sound of rustling silk, and peered at the coiling gallery above. Gracefully, carefully, as if approaching the staircase at her debutante ball, Sayuri made her entrance. Dressed in strapless blue silk, sweeping into a mermaid's tail at her feet, a strand of sparkling diamonds given to her by Itachi as an engagement gift resting at her collarbone, she certainly looked the part. Her golden locks were elegantly curled and brushed over one shoulder, a translucent silk shawl hung from her arms, and there was a brocade clutch bag in her free hand as she grasped the railing of the staircase.

Mira looked so proud she would burst hadn't she been confined in taffeta, and Rui smiled broadly at the sight of her. Tenten rolled her eyes. Once again Sayuri stole the spotlight. Itachi excused himself from Rui's side, approaching the staircase. She paused on the last step, red-painted lips smiling softly, blue eyes lowering shyly.

Tenten wanted to puke.

She accepted Itachi's gallantly outstretched arm, looking like some shy little school girl who just got her first date. And Tenten knew that Sayuri definitely hadn't been a shy school girl about her first date.

She might have been if that first date had been Itachi, though.

As if sensing what she was thinking, Sayuri threw her an icy look.

Scratch that.

The icy glare was directed at both her _and_ Sasuke. That made her day brighten if just a little.

And then Itachi threw Sasuke a warning look, returned by a defiant glare as he put down his flute on the nearest tabletop with unnecessary force. Causing Mira's gaze to slim and her smile to sharpen dangerously. Tenten calmly put down her glass, picking up her black clutch bag from the table. Retrieved her phone to see a message from Ino telling her to watch out for trouble as the lineup for the evening's escorts was royally screwed over.

It didn't take a genius to know that this would be one very interesting evening.

_Kami have mercy on us all. _

* * *

><p><strong>Characters: <strong>

Aya – Hiashi's young personal assistant.

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><p><strong>Translations<strong>:

_Japanese_:

Kaa-san – mother

Shoin – a type of audience hall in Japanese architecture.

Dojo - a formal training place for any of the Japanese do arts but typically it is considered the formal gathering place for students of any Japanese martial arts style to conduct training, examinations and other related encounters.

Yakiniku - commonly refers to a Japanese style of cooking bite-sized meat (usually beef and offal) and vegetables on gridirons or griddles over flame of wood charcoals.

Gyoza - Chinese ravioli-dumplings (potstickers), usually filled with pork and vegetables and pan-fried.

Aniki – older brother

Omusubi – rice balls formed into triangular or oval shapes and often wrapped in nori (seaweed). Sasuke's favorite is omusubi filled with okaka (dried, fermented, and smoked skipjack tuna).

* * *

><p>AN: Another chapter done!

And for once I've managed to update within a reasonable time frame, considering I just finished my finals on Friday. Now that I'm done with my exams and the summer holiday has begun I believe I will be able to make more frequent updates than previously, but I'm not making any promises.

This chapter is basically about family dynamics. I've given some more insight into the dynamics between Hinata and the rest of her family, particularly her parents and her sister. Another family that's been covered a lot in this chapter is the dynamics of the Uchiha men, seen from Sasuke's perspective. And the Himotos of course, because I simply enjoy writing them.

And beside family, I hope people enjoyed the SasuSaku moment that I left out of the previous chapter ;).

More things will happen in the next chapter, which hopefully will be done soon.

On a side note, for those who want to see the dresses described in this chapter, there are links posted on my profile.

And as always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, Miss Tigger, Luka1Sakura, lauchoco92, yattsy and missjewels!

To Miss Tigger – thank you so much for your review! I'm happy that you liked the previous chapter as much as you did. I'm particularly happy that you appreciated the history lesson and the tension building between some of the characters. As for your theory, you're certainly on the right track ;). I hope you liked this chapter as well and that you'll review again!

To Luka1Sakura – thank you so much for reviewing again! Happy that you loved it, particularly the shikaino scene and Sakura's secrecy. Hope you liked this chapter as well, and that you'll review again!

To lauchoco92 – thank you for reviewing again! I'm glad that you liked the last chapter and the bits of information you got. I hope you enjoyed this one as well, and that you'll review again soon!

To yattsy – thank you so much for reviewing again, and I'm happy that you enjoyed this chapter! Glad that you liked the length of the chapter, and again thank you for pointing that out for me. As for Kakashi, I've always thought he was an attractive man, so its nice to see someone thinking the same. And Choji, as you say is not very physically attractive but has got a great personality to make up for it. I think he's the sort of friend you have for life, because he's so loyal and sweet and kind.

I'm also happy that you liked the scene in history class. I try to create a fresh concept to an old story, and I've thought that while the Uchihas and the Senjus founded Konoha it wouldn't necessarily mean that none of the other clans resided in that area beforehand. There is a lot of background information to cover in my story, so there probably will be a couple of more history lessons similar to these. As for your theory about the term paper you are not far off the mark. It's also nice to hear that you appreciated the interactions between the side pairings. As for Ino, again, you're on the right track. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well and that you will review again soon!

To missjewels – as always, thank you for reviewing again! Don't be sorry for not reviewing the last time, I understand completely. Hope you're ok and that no one you knew was caught up in that shooting spree! Anyways, thank you for pointing out that error with the quotation mark. I've just automatically placed the quotation mark like that without really thinking anything about it. But I've made sure to do it right in this chapter. As for the descriptions of the school, I do see your point about it not being in line with an authentic Japanese setting. When it comes to the subjects, they're not really supposed to reflect an authentic Japanese curriculum, but for the rest I will try and make the setting seem more like one you'd find in a Japanese school. And thanks for giving your opinion - I do appreciate it.

Side pairings will always be a matter of opinion, and I understand they can be boring. But I'm happy that you liked the bit with Kakashi, he's always been a favorite character of mine (and I would definitely be crushing on him as well). There will be more of him in the future. As for Sakura having a girlish passion for him...perhaps, though it is not likely to be mutual, seeing as he's considerably older than her (but who knows) ;). Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and the little sasusaku moment in the middle. I can promise there'll be more of the two of them in the next chapters. Hope you will review again soon!

* * *

><p>And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration!<p> 


	10. Charm and Harm

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Charm and Harm**

"_As we ascend the social ladder, viciousness wears a thicker mask." _

– Erich Fromm

* * *

><p>Tanglewood Conservatories<p>

_17__th__ of August_

Tanglewood Conservatories wasn't just some antique orangery filled with exotic and exquisite flowers and plants. It had once been a large manor house belonging to the extinct Kisaki clan, with marble halls and French windows and a paneled library. After he died it had been purchased by Leaf Society and converted to something of a cross between an English gentleman's club and a country club, finished with its own vast golf courses, a tennis court and a massive swimming pool which was frequented during the hot summer days. It was the headquarters of the Women's Committee, who hosted luncheons and fashion shows and garden parties for their numerous charity causes, and also for all the noble and powerful men smoking pipes and cigars and drinking brandy on the second floor.

But the most important thing about Tanglewood was its ballroom, which had hosted some of the grandest events of the season after the doors of the Uchiha Estate and the Senju Palace had been shut ten years ago. While the Conservatory Ball was to be held in the Crystal Palace, a large conservatory of metal and glass adjoined to the manor house by a long corridor, the reception was to be held in the ballroom, so the season's debutantes could make their first entrance to high society with flare.

At the entrance gates there was quite a commotion, the stone steps littered with paparazzi as polished luxury vehicles rolled up the gravel driveway. When people stepped out of their cars they were immediately bombarded by cameras trying to catch the best dressed women and men to embellish the front pages of gossip magazines and newspapers come the morning. No one was very fond of the leeching photographers, but they had come to tolerate them at grand events like these, particularly if they were to graze the fashion columns.

Sakura, however, had never had a good relationship with the media. In fact, she detested it bitterly. Her first experience with the flashing cameras had been when the scandal of the London company Beacon. had broken out in late March of 1999. Not only had it put a damper on the last birthday celebration she'd had with her whole family, but made life almost unbearable. The press had barricaded their home, making it impossible to go outside to play, and she hadn't been allowed to go to school because of it. Neither had she been allowed to go visit Ino, or Uncle Kenji's house for her weekly play dates with Luke and Keira.

The pressure of the media had let off in the beginning of June, so summer had went by in their usual manner of barbecues, rowing up the river, riding on the estate and sitting on jiji's lap. They had respectfully remained on the sidelines when jiji died, but when it was her own parents who died, the paparazzi had gone back to barricading their house. It had been bearable for a time, when kaa-san still had been alive at the hospital, but when she hadn't been there anymore, Sakura had broken down. In a desperate attempt to ask for help, to retrieve her parents, she had stormed out of the house and right into a group of reporters and photographers, hoping to find a hero. But they hadn't helped. There hadn't been a hero. Instead, they had filmed one of her most vulnerable moments and broadcasted it.

She'd shied away from cameras after that.

Now there was no shying away.

She threw an anxious look at Serena, sitting to her left, tempted to ask her if they could just go back home or get inside through a side entrance. Serena's hand covered her clenched one, squeezing it lightly.

_No turning back, I'm afraid. _

Sakura bit her lip, glanced anxiously ahead. Two more cars, and it would be their turn. She clenched the edge of the silk shawl draped over her shoulders, nails digging into the fabric.

And when her anxiety couldn't possibly have reached a higher level, her phone buzzed. Her hammering heart jumped up her throat, and she nearly lost her clutch bag. With shaking fingers she retrieved her cellphone, convinced that if it was Outis her heart would leap out of her brain.

But it wasn't. It was Ino.

She didn't know whether to cry of relief or disappointment.

Reading Ino's message quickly made her forget all about creepy riddles and nobodys.

_Tenten's mom screwed up the escort lineup! And it is _NOT_ my fault! _

Sakura's brow furrowed. When Ino protested her innocence without really being accused, she usually was guilty of something. But she was really much more concerned with how Mrs. Himoto's screw-up impacted her own escort, which was supposed to be Shino Aburame, one of the few boys who actually could get through a whole waltz without stepping on her toes.

Before she could demand to know if her escort had been switched from her troublemaking friend however, the door of the car was opened by one of Tanglewood's staff members, letting lose a frenzy of camera flashes that left her partly blind and disoriented. She closed her eyes against the sharp lights, anxiety rising with each pounding heartbeat. Nearly lost her phone again as she fumbled to put it in her bag, blood rising to her cheeks, salt stinging her eyes. She was close to screaming for them to stop when slender fingers grasped her wrist. Opening her eyes she looked at Serena, who remained at the very edge of the leather seat, moments from stepping out into the eye of the storm.

"_You can do this_," she mouthed, green gaze unyieldingly confident. Her grasp on her wrist tightened momentarily, comfortingly. It was the boost she needed.

Sakura watched as her sister let go of her hand, gracefully stepping out of the vehicle. She edged over as Serena turned her face to the press, back shielding her from some of the sharp flashes. With as much grace she could muster with her long skirts and heels she climbed out of the car, gratefully accepting the assistance of the kind staff member, giving him an uneasy smile. And then, if possible, the flashes intensified and journalists called out names. Vaguely she caught onto her mother's name, and her brow furrowed with confusion, unable to comprehend why they would do that. But it washed away, for that nauseating sense of déjà vu returned with vengeance, overwhelming her. Saw herself in the flashes as a little girl with wet, salty cheeks and big, horrified eyes.

"_Please help me find my kaa-san!"_

Fingers grasped her hand, and Serena's face appeared. Momentarily it morphed, contorting into the assuring smile of Kenji, the one he'd given her that first day when she had to walk through a sea of reporters to get inside her home, over ten years ago.

"_It's not lightning, cherry," _he'd told her. _"It won't harm you."_

She didn't hear her sister's words, but her fingers clenched Serena's reassuringly. She put on a brave smile, let go of her hand to grasp her skirts. They walked side by side through the throngs of reporters and cameras, smiling but not acknowledging the calls of the journalists. More than once did Sakura have to suppress the urge to break into a run, to storm through the French doors of glass just to get away from the blinding flashes.

It was a relief to enter the lobby, where it was profoundly quiet in comparison to outside. No reporters were allowed inside, only a photographer stationed in the ballroom. Many guests had arrived before them, making their way into the ballroom after shedding their shawls and jackets. Debutantes made their way up the marble staircase to the second floor, where they were guided by people from the committee to a room. They would wait there until it was time to descend the staircase in the ballroom, making their first entrance.

Dazedly, Sakura was aware of Serena taking hold of her arm, and guiding her into a corridor leading to the kitchen. She stopped them once they were away from cameras and curious eyes, pressing her back against the wall. Sakura leaned heavily against it as a cool palm pressed against her forehead, her cheek, and she took note of Serena's worried expression as she examined her.

"Are you ok?" she asked, eyes scanning her form for signs of fatigue. "Are you going to faint?"

Sakura shook her head.

"Just a bit dazed." She responded, leaning her head back against the blue and white wallpaper, closing her eyes. It took a moment to gather her wits, to calm the erratic beating of her heart. And then she remembered the calls of the paparazzi. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why did they call me Airisu?"

Serena, in the process of removing Sakura's shawl, paused. Smiled uneasily, a hand brushing her pink locks, her pale cheek.

"A trick of the eye," she answered, hand falling from her face. "Nothing more."

The shawl was quickly slipped from Sakura's shoulders before she could say anything else, along with the clutch bag that she had unwittingly been digging her nails into. She looked down at her fingers, noticing that her French manicure had been chipped away because of it, and the nail on her pinky finger had split.

"Don't worry," Serena assured her as she took note of the way she studied her nails, pulling her away from the wall with a guiding hand. "They won't take notice of it."

With efficiency that rivaled any mother hen she circled her, making sure that no hair was out of place and that her eyeliner wasn't smudged, and crouched down in an un-ladylike fashion to smooth out the creases in the skirt where she'd clenched the material. Once she rose to her full height again she grasped her shoulders and peered down at her with concern.

"Are you up for this?" she asked, seriously. "I don't want you doing this if you're not."

"I'm up for it," she responded. Serena didn't move, unconvinced.

Sakura couldn't blame her, for it wouldn't be the first time she'd put on a brave face when she wasn't really up for the challenge ahead. But she couldn't back out now, not when she had already gone through the trouble of entering the building.

Nothing could possibly be worse.

"_Really_," she assured her, grasping her wrists, making her let go of her shoulders. "I'm _fine_ now."

Serena stepped back, still concerned, but said nothing to protest.

"If you're sure," she eventually spoke, smiling uneasily. "Ino is probably waiting upstairs."

Slowly they made their way back into the lobby. Serena handed their things over to the staff, and gave her a tight hug.

"You'll shine tonight," she whispered reassuringly, repeating the words she'd said in her room. "They'll be proud".

Salt stung Sakura's eyes once more, but in a pleasant way. They let go of each other, torn between smiling and crying. Serena remained in the lobby as she made her way to the stairs, a comforting presence to look back at, and Sakura felt more at ease.

Halfway up the arched staircase she was met by a woman from the committee, wearing glasses and dressed in blue taffeta. With a kind smile she guided her through the second floor corridors, made of yellow wallpaper and limestone floors that smelled faintly of citrus. They soon entered a room that once must have been a bedroom, but had been converted into a makeshift dressing room for the occasion. Nearly all the girls were there, along with some fretting mothers trying to make last-minute adjustments to their daughters' appearances. Mira Himoto and Ino's mother were both notably absent, however.

Ino herself quickly appeared, a vision in a lovely nude dress with fluttering chiffon sleeves, a daring neckline, embroidered floral appliqués, and shimmery sequins. Her golden locks were elegantly curled and looked extra glossy for the occasion, and the canary diamond rested at her collarbone, sparkling as always. Her periwinkle eyes widened when she took in her friend's appearance, pink mouth forming an O as she stared admiringly.

"You look…" she paused, at lack of words. "_Amazing_."

Though Sakura wasn't unaccustomed to compliments, she definitely hadn't gotten a reaction like this from Ino before. Her friend was a dictator of fashion, and rarely, if ever, was impressed beyond words. It made her Inner swell with pride.

"Is this your mother's?" Ino grabbed her wrist, lifting it to admire the bracelet that adorned it. It was a stunning art deco bracelet of diamonds that once had belonged to her obaa-san. She'd given it to Sakura's mother as a wedding gift, but she had rarely worn it. Serena had been given it for her debutante season, and she had worn it frequently. Now it was Sakura's. It felt good to wear something of her obaa-san's, and something of her mother's. The dress had been hers once – a favorite sewn by Chanel.

"Yes," Sakura nodded, smiling proudly. The bracelet was truly a beautiful piece of jewelry.

Yet she had hoped to wear obaa-san's emeralds, the most iconic piece of jewelry in the family. It had been commissioned by her jiji from Cartier in Paris after the birth of his first son, and had been worn by all of the Haruno women, with the exception of herself. And Keira. But Serena had promised she would get to wear it soon – it simply hadn't been appropriate for the occasion. Debutantes weren't supposed to wear heavy jewelry.

Sakura gave Ino an once-over, and while she was more than just a little gleeful about her own attire she had always envied Ino for being able to wear anything. That nude color (which looked ah-mazing on Ino) would've made herself look like a candy cane.

"You look stunning." She said, sincerely.

"Thank you." Ino beamed at the compliment, twirling to show off the full effect of the dress. It shimmered in the light, her curls bouncing.

"Maman had it made for me." She declared once she stopped.

At the mention of Jia Yamanaka, Sakura automatically scanned the crowd for her. But she wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Isn't she here?" she inquired.

Ino's smile fell momentarily, before she masked it with an indifferent shrug and the sort of guarded expression that someone that young shouldn't have.

"No, she couldn't come." She declared.

"Oh." Inwardly Sakura winced at her own reaction.

"It's fine." Ino assured, waving the matter away with her hand. Sakura knew it was a lie, one she'd rehearsed and repeated many times before. So many times that Sakura never tried to get the truth from her anymore. Suddenly Ino's face brightened, eyes glinting with mischief.

"At least now I don't need to deal with _this_." She made a sweeping movement with her hand at the room. Sakura followed the movement, catching sight of girls like Karin Uzumaki and Kin Tsuchi slowly being driven mad by their mothers' incessant tugging and fretting over their attires and make-up. Sakura didn't really see the humor in it. For she could easily imagine her own mother do such things, smoothing the dress, complaining about the eye shadow, the layers of mascara.

There was that familiar tug of melancholy again.

She smothered it, latching onto the only possible distraction she had at the moment.

"What did you mean about the change in the lineup?" she asked. Ino's grin faltered and her shoulders tensed – two not very reassuring signs.

"Ah, I was hoping you wouldn't ask." She said, smiling nervously.

_That was the third not very reassuring sign_, Sakura noted dully. Ino grasped her hand, pulling her along to a remote corner of the room.

"Look," she began, pleadingly, "don't be mad. I _desperately_ needed to have another escort, but Mrs. Himoto was adamant that she'd keep the lineup as it was."

Sakura raised a brow at that. _Desperately_ needed to have another escort? Hadn't she been the one to bully Mrs. Himoto into making Kiba Inuzuka her escort just three months ago?

"So then I had to convince her that the debutante this guy was escorting was not suitable for his bloodline, and I sort of must have planted an idea in her head about matching couples based on heritage, because suddenly she'd gone ballistic on the lineup."

It took Sakura a moment or two to absorb Ino's hurried explanation. Which didn't really work since she couldn't for the life of her understand why Ino would think to do something like this. She was rarely spontaneous when it came to big events where they were to be under the scrutiny of Leaf Society (her own parents included), and whom could very well determine their futures before they even began. But here she was, ten minutes before descending the staircase, telling her she had switched escorts. _Today_.

And that just because of a _guy_?

The only guy Ino would've done something like that for was Sasuke, but since she hated the Uchiha's guts it was unlikely.

"Wait, what guy?" she began to ask, genuinely curious as to whom could have made Ino so reckless, only to freeze and rewind. "Have I have lost Shino because of this?"

Her voice was a little sharper than what was necessary, causing Ino to wince, but right in that moment Sakura did not want to hear that she had lost the only reasonable dancing partner she'd had since third grade. Ino hesitated for a moment, (_and that was the fourth and final not very reassuring sign)_ silently weighing her options. Then, mildly apprehensive at her possible reaction, she delivered the news.

"Yes, you have."

Sakura had seen it coming, but it was still difficult to swallow the cold, hard facts. But she remained calm, composed, trying to reassure herself that it probably wasn't as disastrous as she imagined it. Maybe her escort would be Chōji, or Kiba, or even Shikamaru. She could handle that.

"And exactly _who_ is escorting me tonight?" she asked, praying to every heavenly deity that it would not be Rock Lee. Or Sasuke. As a matter of fact, she'd prefer Lee and his green suits and waggling eyebrows before having to go anywhere near that Uchiha bastard again. But before Ino could tell her anything further they were interrupted by the tentative voice of Hinata.

"H-hey."

Turning, they saw her approach, in flowing Marchesa chiffon with details of gold. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail, the navy blue locks perfectly curled and glossy, and she wore her mother's pearl earrings. She was beautiful, no denying that, but also boringly predictable. Her father dictated the dress code, something they were painfully aware of, but it went beyond Sakura why Hinata couldn't wear anything other than chiffon. But it wasn't so much the dress as the utter melancholia in Hinata's pale gaze that bothered Sakura. It was almost a mirror image of herself once, though the scars Hinata bore were fresher and deeper, always grinded with more salt.

Never healing. Always hurting.

"Hey, Hinata." Sakura greeted her in return, smiling warmly. "That's really pretty," she complimented her on her dress. Though the choice might have been boring, nothing wrong could happen while donning Marchesa haute couture. And it _did_ look good on her.

"Hinata!" Ino broke in with a high-pitch, hurrying forwards to plant a kiss on her cheek. A bit overdone, if you asked Sakura. "You look _great_. That color does _wonders_ on your skin tone."

_Oh_, definitely overdone.

Hinata blinked, taken aback by Ino's overwhelming compliments. Ino had never been one to go overboard with them as far as it went with Hinata's (_father's_) predictable choices.

"You think so?" she asked, uncertain as to whether or not Ino was making fun of her or actually meaning what she was saying. It wasn't either, really, simply Ino's desperation to get out of a rather uncomfortable situation. Namely informing her friend of who was to be her escort.

"Yes!" Another high-pitched response.

Sakura's hopes for a reasonable partner were dwindling now. But she'd rather know who it was now so she could at least have some semblance of preparation, rather than be smacked to the floor with shock and horror once already inside the ballroom.

"_Ino_!" she seethed, reaching out to grab her wrist and twist it until she spilled the guy's name.

"Good evening, ladies!" A pleasant voice called, once more interrupting Sakura's attempt at wringing it from her. Her lightning eyes glared at the obstacle, which of course had to be Mrs. Himoto in all her taffeta glory. At her arrival the mothers unwillingly removed themselves from their daughters' skirts and hair to leave the room. It was after all difficult to admire and brag about their daughter descending the staircase from the dressing room. As they glided out of the room, Mira continued:

"I hope you're all well-rested and prepared for tonight's festivities." As she said that her hawk eyes scanned the room to detect flaws in her debutantes' appearances. Once she was satisfied none of the girls could cast shame on herself, she snapped her fingers and the woman with the glasses appeared, balancing a tower of small booklets – the long-awaited and extremely tardy programs for the evening – in her spindly arms.

"Please hand out these." Mira ordered the woman in a manner Sakura could only describe as snobbish. It was not difficult to see where Sayuri got it from, but how that woman ever came to be Tenten's mother was a mystery. The poor woman with the glasses tried to hand out the booklets as gracefully as she could while stumbling in her own skirts, whereas Mira simply surveyed her with a downward tilt to her mouth as she spoke.

"Now, you shall descend the staircase one at the time. A photographer will take your picture as you do, and afterwards you can mingle with the crowd." She informed them, delicately stressing photographer.

"At nine you will be escorted from the ballroom to the conservatory, where we will be opening the evening's dances with Strauss' Blue Danube." It wasn't as if they hadn't known that. For the past five months they'd been training intensively for that particular waltz.

"Please take note that there has been made some last-minute changes to the lists."

That particular bit of information had the room break out with anxious looks and outraged whispers. Sakura threw a dark look at Ino, who was more interested in her Louboutin-clad feet.

"Don't be concerned," Mira assured them, taking note of their anxiousness, "this only has an impact on who will be leading you to the conservatory and who you partner with at the first dance."

Which of course was the most important part of the whole bloody evening. No one cared for the second or third dance – the opening was all that mattered, when all eyes were on them, when the people who really mattered got their first impression.

Taking a page out of Hinata's book and faint her way to the hospital sounded like a really good idea right now.

"Otherwise you are free to be with anyone you want." Mira continued. "The evening ends at one o'clock. Any questions?"

It was no surprise to see Karin raise her hand, looking thoroughly snubbed.

"Yes, Karin dear?" Mira addressed her sweetly.

"May I protest to this lineup?" It wasn't so much a question as a demand, but Mira was unfazed, if not a little irritated, for there was a sharpness to her smile that never bode well.

"No, you may not," was her blunt reply. "This lineup is final. You'll be escorted by your cousin Naruto." Karin's cheeks flushed red with outrage at having to be escorted by Naruto. The two of them had never gotten along very well.

There was another outbreak of whispers, outraged ones, as the girls anxiously flipped through the pages of the booklet in search of the lists of debutantes and escorts. It just happened to be Sakura's luck that the woman with the glasses still hadn't reached their part of the room. Her fingers flexed.

"Now, Shion, _darling_," Mira addressed the pretty blonde with stunning amethyst eyes, "you're the first to go."

She nodded her head, turning towards the door where another woman was waiting for her. As she disappeared out of the door Mira began lining up the next ones, Ami, Matsuri, Kasumi, Fuki, Karin. And just as Sakura was handed her program, freshly printed and glossy with gilded leaves and sweeping handwriting, she appeared in front of them, once more hindering Sakura's quest for answers.

Mira paused, smile faltering as if she had been caught off-guard. And then she concealed it behind a smile and a sweet demeanor.

"How lovely." She said, studying the three of them, searching for blemishes. Whatever she found was not enough to be pointed out, for she continued by complimenting Hinata's hair and asking if Ino's dress was made by her mother. Though the Harunos and the Himotos weren't on the best of terms so to speak, it was no surprise that Mira would complement Sakura as well. But Sakura was not prepared for the exuberance of it.

"You look stunning tonight, Sakura dear," she said. "Beautiful gown, the color suits you greatly."

It was enough to make Sakura nervous. Mira had always been guarded about giving compliments, mainly because of Sayuri, but also her apprehension towards the Haruno sisters in general. Even though she had nothing personally against them – despite thoroughly disagreeing with the ambassador's wife more often than not, both sisters knew how to perfect politeness to a degree that Mira could not find fault with it. But despite the oddity of Mira's behavior, Sakura smiled, thanking her the way she always thanked her.

With strained politeness.

"I hope the lineup isn't going to be inconvenient for you." She blinked; surprised that Mira would direct a question like that to her.

"I'm still at loss as to who is escorting me, Mrs. Himoto." She responded, smothering the urge to stick her nose in the booklet for an answer.

"Sasuke Uchiha will be escorting you, dear," Mira casually replied, as if it was not ground-shattering news, before some poor debutante caught her attention and she went off without waiting for a reply. Sakura was left frozen, face blank. Silently she wondered if she was having a nightmare. Wondered if this was a twisted paradox, or perhaps she had hit her head this morning. Because this was like two parallel lines on crash course, lightning striking twice and pigs spurting wings, all at once. It could simply _not_ be _possible_.

It was just too plain ridiculous, too fucking unfair that it just simply couldn't be true.

But it was. Written black on white in a glossy booklet that everyone could read, was her name, right next to Sasuke Uchiha's. Any other time, she would've died a happy girl on Sasuke Uchiha's arm. _Any_ other day that would've been her greatest success, her greatest triumph. A dream come true. But today, after what had transpired between them in the bathroom, this was the worst possible thing that could've happened to her.

And it was _all_ Ino's fault.

"_Ino_." Slowly she turned on her friend, prepared to choke her with the booklet she still held. Only to find said friend escaping through the doors like a coward, Hinata in tow, with that damn apologetic smile of hers.

"Gotta go, sweetie!" She called, voice light and sweet. "Love you!"

Sakura glowered at their retreating backs, but oh, she wasn't getting away that easily. At first opportunity, she thought darkly, she was going to kill Ino Yamanaka.

* * *

><p>The ballroom was a fine example of the frenzy for extravagant European architecture that had spread at the turn of the 20th century. It had been a direct result of the Harunos building a house that Konoha had never seen before, and though they were criticized for it, everyone had been envious – and began to copy it. Tanglewood's ballroom was grandeur and opulence with white-painted walls and Grecian marble pillars and finely gilded details everywhere. A chandelier glittered above them, suspended from the ornate ceiling, and paintings of deceased members of Leaf Society hung on the walls, watching them like hawks. But the guests paid little attention to them, sipping champagne from crystal flutes and conversed about the debutantes, politics and the great achievements of their children while flashing smiles at the wandering photographer.<p>

Itachi surveyed the scene over the rim of his crystal flute, gaze half-lidded and guarded. The Hokage was speaking with Jiraiya and Hiruzen Sarutobi, while his son Naruto was sneaking off with Sasuke. That other friend of his, Shikaku's boy, remained stuck at his parents' side, likely on the demand of his mother Yoshino. The Hyuugas remained in their own protective circle, whereas the InoShikaCho tribe, consisting of Akimichis, Naras and Yamanakas went about as they always did. He himself was in Himoto's group, consisting of all of his in-laws (_with the notable exception of Mira, who was delegating the debutantes upstairs_), Asuma Sarutobi and his girlfriend Kurenai, and the late Haza Sarutobi's tight-lipped wife, Kikiyo. Conversation was as shallow as it was predictable, and he did little to contribute to the talk of elections and upcoming weddings. Everything worth speaking of had already been spoken before.

And while the Himotos weren't the worst to converse with at these events, considering the silence of the Aburames and the obnoxiousness that followed the Inuzukas wherever they went, they rarely managed to keep his interest. Inwardly, he much preferred the diversity of the Akatsuki, who'd always keep one on one's toes with the topics they discussed, and that of his old and closest friends. Shisui always had something to say, their older cousin Obito always used teased and treated them like brats, making banter a normal part of their daily routine, and Serena could go head to head with anyone with that silver tongue of hers.

He knew she hadn't arrived yet, although he was under no illusion that she wouldn't come. There certainly would be no other reason why Rui Himoto would text him and suggest waiting another hour or so before arriving at the manor, as Sayuri had a hard time getting finished. Finished as opposed to getting ready meant finding the look that would outshine a rival. And at this point there was no other candidate that could possibly outshine Sayuri than Serena. But that did not concern him. Even in the wake of what had happened that time in the alley, he was confident that her presence would not cause a problem. She was not the type to make a scene. Certainly not in the presence of old family friends.

"So, the housewarming party is on Friday?" Kurenai inquired to his fiancée, smiling knowingly over the rim of her champagne glass. Sayuri beamed at the question, finding it a perfect opening to go on about the party and the renovations made on the apartment.

"Yes, it is," she confirmed, proudly. "We're looking forward to finally call it _our home_."

As she spoke she linked arms with him. It was something she tended to do, he mused, to show people that they were a united front. To _assure_ them that they were united.

She looked up at him, smilingly. Expectantly.

"Right, Itachi?"

"Of course." Was his obligatory, monotonous answer. Sayuri hid her disappointment at his lack of emotion poorly, but quickly smiled and put up pretenses so that her father wouldn't react to her disappointment and try talk her out of the wedding once more. Or make Kurenai look at the two with that indiscernible stare as she had all evening. That in itself wasn't odd, for she had always regarded their relationship cautiously, though she tried hard to appear thrilled for her friend. But there was something about the way she had been looking at them tonight that was unusual.

Suspicious, if he were to describe it.

"Ah!" Rui exclaimed, stretching a hand out for his approaching wife. "The co-chair returns."

Mira's smile sharpened dangerously at his friendly banter. She had never been fond of the reminder that this committee really was run by Yoshino Nara and not herself. Though she didn't say it out loud, she'd always thought that now with her rivals drastically narrowed down they would choose her. And she was right in that thinking, Itachi supposed darkly, now that women like Kushina Uzumaki and Hinote Hyuuga had joined ranks with his own mother in the afterlife. Few others could outshine the ambassador's wife as a result, and neither did anyone of those who remained on the committees bother to argue with her.

Something he greatly sympathized with.

He'd never argued with his soon to be mother-in-law, partly because he had learned since early age not to pick battles with women in the family _(his mother being the most memorable example),_ and partly because he found butting heads with Mira Himoto to be a fruitless effort. There was simply nothing to gain on it. But her rants against her husband and youngest daughter tended to give everyone present a splitting headache, so he could only imagine the migraines people developed during sharp-edged discussions over tea and biscuits.

"Madara!" Mira exclaimed, eagerly rushing forward to greet him. Itachi watched his uncle approach from the corner of his eye, cautiously studying him. He had done so since he'd entered the room half an hour ago, watching him discreetly as he maneuvered the crowds of politicians, diplomats, business tycoons and investors – all potential allies in the next election for Hokage. It was no secret that he intended to be a candidate, and likely he'd be a strong one too, hero as he was.

He'd also taken time to address Sasuke, who hid his satisfaction for the attention poorly. His otouto had always idolized their uncle, and Madara had always easily manipulated the boy. And in the seven years Sasuke had spent under Madara's roof he had effectively been nursing a hatred for Itachi, spurred on by Madara's clever manipulations and speeches about cowardice and weaknesses. It had festered into an unhealthy idolization in the Uchiha clan and its values, distorting the reality that their family, particularly Madara and their own father, had been far from honorable. It made it a particularly bitter pill to swallow when his otouto tossed accusations in his face about his lack of loyalty and honor, when truth was that he was the only Uchiha presently upholding those values. But even if he was to give Sasuke that lecture, he would've refused to listen, even less so believe a word of it. He was too deeply influenced by Madara to believe anyone but him.

And that reality had given him many sleepless nights.

"I am so pleased that you could make it," Mira continued, fussing over him like the mother hen she was. Madara took Mira's exuberant greeting with tolerance, politely returning the favor with pleasantries he'd long since learned to deliver convincingly, and a kiss on her hand that made her flustered and _(for once)_ tongue-tied with awe.

He next greeted the ambassador, who had a new tension to his shoulders as they shook hands and exchanged words. Rui Himoto had always been cautious of Madara Uchiha. Even afraid, though it was hard to discern the two when he wore his poker face. And only when the new in-laws had been properly greeted (completely ignoring Asuma and Kurenai), did he acknowledge Itachi.

Their gazes met, ominous red and guarded onyx, silently exchanging the same tense agreement that they had in the hallway hours earlier. And then they exchanged curt nods, customary for the two as words would be spiteful and catch people's attention to the _(quite understatedly)_ tense relationship between the two.

_Perception is everything_, was the lesson he'd been taught all his life. _Let the world see a united family. Conflicts are difficult enough without everyone else being aware of them._

It was his mother's words, after another rough event when he'd had difficulty concealing his frustrations with his father. He'd taken her words at face value. The same couldn't be said for Sasuke, who openly displayed his anger and resentment in public, though people wisely turned a blind eye to it.

"Miss Sayuri," his uncle greeted her in the same fashion he'd done with her mother, causing her to release her hold on his arm completely. She smiled, cheeks pink, as he brushed his lips against her knuckles.

"Pleasure, as always," he continued, red gaze indiscernible. Itachi noticed how her fingers flexed slightly in Madara's hold before he released her. And the moment he had let go of her hand he returned his attention to Rui, who hid his discomfort carefully as he engaged in conversation with him. Itachi paid little attention to it. Even with Madara present, subjects didn't change.

He took note of Zetsu standing a distance from the group, ever the loyal dog. He kept his gaze firmly on the crowd, listening to the voices speaking over his earpiece. He avoided looking at him, or really look in his general direction. It was something he'd tended to do whenever they crossed paths these three past years. Suddenly he moved forward, barely noticed as he leaned towards his employer and murmured something inaudible. But Itachi could read his lips, and knew what he'd said.

"_She's arrived, boss."_

It might have been a hunch, or simply his previous experiences regarding Madara's attentions towards her, but he was quite certain who the woman in question was. And that made him suspicious as to what his uncle's motifs really were.

There was no immediate entrance to the ballroom, but when she did enter, no one failed to notice her. For despite the crowds, the beautiful young women and the obnoxious ladies with their distractingly large gems, there was something about Serena, and Haruno women in general that simply caught people's attention. While there were many beautiful females swarming these echelons of high society, none were a match. There was something in the way she held herself - that bone-deep confidence, the sense of regality it conveyed. Effortless on her part, he knew. She had always held herself in a regal manner, one of many things she'd inherited from her grandmother. Haunting green eyes swept the crowd, as one would a battlefield, assessing ones enemies, ones allies.

And Itachi supposed that in this world, there were more enemies than friends.

She paused in the entry, dramatically shedding a mantle of silk to make sure everyone took notice. Beneath was a gown of grey sequins, with a sweeping train and long sleeves and a high neckline. Understated, unadorned, subtly sexy, she stood out from the crowd of color and taffeta like the black swan she so often portrayed. The employee perched in the doorway assisted her in removing her mantle, and once she was free from its hold she glided across the marble floor, as all eyes were fixed on her. She remained unfazed to their attentions; the open stares, the whispered conversations dripped off like water from a feather.

Minato Namikaze was the first to greet her, politely detaching himself from the elderly council to meet her halfway. With a kind smile he bowed down to grasp her delicate hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, bringing a soft, but genuine smile to her lips. Then he rose to his full height, and they murmured greetings only meant for their ears, as everyone watched on curiously, enviously. Itachi watched, eyes black, as they linked arms and joined Jiraiya, who more than eagerly went about copying his protégée's greeting. And it was then people took note of the daring cut of the back, exposing the naked arch of her spine, and at the small of her back.

Itachi felt Sayuri's hand on his arm, breaking his train of thoughts. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his sleeve as if afraid that any moment he'd stray from her side. He suppressed the urge to move from her grasp, finding himself growing increasingly annoyed with her insecurity, her constant need for reassurance. She was not a child to be coddled, or an insecure teenager in need of attention, but a grown woman.

A grown woman, he thought, whose confident façade was cracking severely at the edges. She was far from what she had been that first night, of the corporations dinner three years ago. But he tolerated her clingy behavior, aware of the mocking curl of Madara's lips as he conversed lightly with Rui Himoto. Adamantly refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him, in front of anyone. There had been enough of that, in the past.

Instead he remained silent, unmoving, studying Madara, studying Serena, growing increasingly unsettled.

* * *

><p>Serena Haruno's entrance had stirred the atmosphere of the room. People were whispering, some demeaning, and some admiring – but most were anticipating what her presence could set off. Sasuke had been observing, discreetly, since she entered and linked arms with Naruto's father. That the two of them would be close was something he hadn't anticipated, although Naruto himself hadn't been surprised. She had been participating in the last two of his father's election campaigns after all; a prominent member of the kôenkai, or support group.<p>

But even as the initial surprise subsided, Sasuke couldn't divert his gaze. He continued to observe, study, not because she was breathtaking or commanding his attention, but simply because he could. It struck him that this was the first time he'd seen her up close in years. At the graveyard last week she had been a far distance away, barely visible under humongous sunglasses, but now, only a few feet separated them.

She hadn't aged much, if nothing at all, in the four years since he'd seen her. And she still maintained that guarded look that made her unapproachable to people like him. He hadn't said a word to her since his parents' death, hadn't dared. That guarded demeanor of hers had made it difficult to believe that she actually would tell him anything. And the irony of it all was that ten years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to ask her anything.

She had been a constant fixture in his short life, for wherever Itachi or Shisui were, so was she. He could still remember summer days and rainy days spent chasing them on the estate, spying on them under tables and in the cracks of the doors, and sometimes curling up on the couch with them as they watched TV. The three of them, Itachi, Shisui and Serena, would sometimes babysit him when their parents were out, and Sasuke had taken great pleasure in wearing them out; pushing boundaries he'd never dare in the presence of his mother. Of all the three Serena had been the less weary – he supposed it was because she had a sister the same age. But what he remembered best, was that she used to tell them stories, though he had long since forgotten the words, and that she played hide and seek with him when no one else was around. And somehow he was sure she could sing, but he could never remember when he'd heard her.

But most importantly, he was convinced that she could give him the answers he needed. She had seen things, heard things, that could very well prove to reveal who murdered his family. And hers.

It was worth a try.

_If_ he could somehow fix things with Sakura.

How he was supposed to do that when he'd already gone ahead and kissed her, he didn't know. She never did what he expected her to do.

God, she was _annoying_.

In that moment the debutantes finally descended the marble staircase to a fanfare of Tchaikovsky. Unsurprisingly it had been Shion who descended first, as she was one of Mira Himoto's biggest '_potentials'_ – girls who could reach far in life (as far as Miss Konoha and charity galas went). Sasuke, like the rest, watched the girls glide down the staircase in silks and chiffon, though he remained utterly unimpressed.

Why people found themselves awed by little girls walking down a staircase without falling flat on their face was beyond him. He had never understood it – not even with Kohana. But with her, he had tolerated it. Even pretended to be interested.

Anything to please her, make her smile.

_What a joke._

Sullenly he took a sip of his sparkling soda – alcohol was an impossible feat in the presence of both his brother and uncle. _And_ Madara had told him that his allowance would be pulled if he drank like he had at the engagement party. How he had discovered that was beyond him. He had been drinking with moderation, unlike Tenten.

He was torn from his musings as the room seemed to quiet down, people halting their movements. It wouldn't have surprised him if it had been Mira Himoto about to hold her opening speech, or some disinvited guest appearing anyway, but it wasn't. Mira was with the rest of the Himoto/Sarutobi tribe, and he couldn't pinpoint any guest that people were particularly fixed on.

But they were fixed on something. As a matter of fact, everyone in the room was looking at something. Parents, council members, waiters…_everyone_ was staring. He followed their line of vision, not comprehending what would make people like Danzō Shimura and Tsume Inuzuka stop discussions and sputtering profanities. They were staring at the top of the arched staircase, not even looking at Kin Tsuchi who was descending it.

His jaw went slack.

The girl at the top of the staircase paused, green silk fluttering at her feet.

She was stunning.

Pink locks, elegantly curled, were styled in a half-up, half-down fashion, held in place by a lacquered hair comb, before tumbling down her pale shoulders and back, framing a face that was glowing like moonstones. Her eyes were as vibrant as the dress she wore, positively shining. And the dress itself was truly something, created of featherweight silk, custom-dyed into a stunning shade of emerald that skimmed her form like water. The fabric clung to her breasts, barely held up by a pair of delicate, twisted straps on her shoulders. The flowing hemline made it appear as though she was floating in the air, her silver heels barely peeking out beneath it. The hip drapery brought attention to the slit at the front, earning them a view of naked leg as she moved down the staircase. A diamond bracelet sparkled on her delicate wrist, and glittering earrings with brilliants and emeralds dangled from her lobes. Her pink lips, held the ghost of a smile.

Sasuke could not believe it. It had to be a mirage, some trick of the eye. It was the ghost of Airisu Haruno walking down those stairs, a vision of luminescent pale and shimmering green.

Dreamy.

Ethereal.

But then she smiled; a shy, innocent smile, and her cheeks colored a pale rose from the attention she garnered, and the illusion was shattered. It wasn't Airisu Haruno back from the dead. She wouldn't smile shyly or blush, but hold herself like a queen, unaffected by the looks of others. He knew. Had seen her many times when his parents hosted dances, balls, dinner parties. She had been so utterly unaffected by everything that sometimes he wondered if she was even present in the room.

This was Sakura, little, insecure Sakura with red silk ribbons and elf dolls and blushes, who'd chased him throughout elementary school, and slapped him in the girls' bathroom only hours ago.

Since when had she turned into this?

Since when had she become…

He felt something shift. It was subtle, barely there, but he knew it was irrevocable, that he could no longer look at her the same way he'd done all his life. She wasn't just some silly, awkward girl with a quick temper. She was…something else. Something he wasn't quite willing to explore at that moment.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, skirts falling to drape her legs. Her eyes skimmed the audience, halting when they met his. Her shoulders straightened, her chin slightly raised, and then she looked away, and refused to look at him again. Her face broke into a vibrant smile, a smile he hadn't seen before, as her sister stepped forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the way mothers sometimes did with their daughters. And though they were sisters, he supposed that Serena was more of a mother to her than anything else.

He felt a hot stab of envy, something more familiar to him than he was willing to admit, and he threw a look over his shoulder at Itachi. Sayuri was glued to his side, but his gaze was on the Haruno sisters, paying no attention to anything else in the room.

Just as he had never paid attention to him.

Obsidian gaze slimmed with the reminder.

Sakura's spell had shattered when she and her sister walked past them arm in arm, and the crowd whispered softly amongst themselves. Sasuke could vaguely make out conversations of '_what a beautiful young woman'_ and '_she is truly her mother's daughter'_ and _'perfect match for my grandson, I tell you'_. And in-between words of praise and admiration there were the darker reminders, '_a pity, what happened_' and '_you remember, when she was on the news?_'

He had seen the footage. It had been over a month after that day in the graveyard, when she'd approached him and given him her doll. She'd been calm back then, tranquil almost, perhaps because her mother was still alive. But on the news that day, she was distraught and pleading. It had been exactly three days after Airisu Haruno was declared dead, as he'd recently learned.

"A beauty, is she not?" An oily, almost salacious voice spoke. Turning his head Sasuke saw Orochimaru Sannin stand beside him, casually sipping from his flute of champagne, peering down at him over the rim of the glass. He was tall, towering at least a head over Sasuke, and almost as tall as Madara. But unlike his uncle he was neither broad nor particularly muscular; he was almost femininely slender, though not enough to pass off as a woman. Skin deathly pale against the black of his tuxedo, dark hair as long as that of the Hyuugas. He had a notable face, with prominent cheekbones and a sharp jaw and purple tattoos above his eyes.

And his eyes.

_Snake eyes. _

"So much alike her mother that I thought, for a moment, it was her." He continued, lips curling as his gaze briefly flickered to Sakura before fixing itself on him.

Sasuke repressed a shudder. There was something about that gaze; it was like a snake observing a mouse, watching, waiting, only a moment from striking its intended prey. Confident that it would catch it, devour it.

"_Never trust a snake, Sasuke."_

His father's words.

"My apologies." Orochimaru continued, his flute disappearing on a passing silver tray as he bowed with mocking flourish. Sasuke watched with a guarded expression.

This man…

There was something off with him.

Besides the obvious.

"I believe we have not been formally introduced. I am Orochimaru…"

"Sannin." Sasuke finished, bluntly, rudely. He didn't like playing games; certainly not the one this man was trying to initiate. They knew who the other was. No point in pretending. "I know."

Orochimaru was not fazed by his blunt manner; if nothing else he seemed pleased.

"And you are Sasuke Uchiha." He responded smoothly, rising to his full height again. Sasuke remained stoically silent, watching the man from the corner of his eye, not quite understanding why the former detective would have any interest in him.

"You know, I was your brother's teacher," Orochimaru spoke again, peering down at him with a curling smile, "in New York."

That caught Sasuke's attention.

He had known Itachi had attended some academy in Manhattan, specializing on military training. He'd been there for two years before leaving to take his business degree at Harvard. But he hadn't been aware of that Orochimaru had been a teacher there.

_And that_, he thought, _was strange_. For only four months after the massacre he was supposed to lead the investigation – only to simultaneously be teaching in New York? It didn't add up. To be in a position to solve a mystery of the scale of the White Massacre was the chance of a lifetime, ensuring only the highest positions within the police force, and perhaps even Hokage. Why on earth would someone – and Orochimaru no less – divide his time between the investigation and a _school_?

He was far too ambitious to settle for something like that.

Sasuke's gaze narrowed.

There was something else to this that he was missing.

"You, a teacher?" He asked, disbelievingly. He certainly didn't look like the type to spend hours teaching bratty teenagers.

As if reading his mind, Orochimaru's smirk widened.

"Only for the special few worthy to be taught." He responded, suddenly standing closer. "Great potentials become great successes when shaped in the right hands."

Sasuke watched him cautiously, barely keeping from reeling backwards, away from him. He didn't like this man; didn't like the way he was going with his talk.

"Your brother certainly was a potential," he continued, silkily, "and you yourself, I hear."

At that, Sasuke's gaze sharpened.

"I'm impressed with your skill." He complimented. "Exceeding in martial arts, the best in your age group, already taught jujutsu."

Hadn't he been used to flattery, he wouldn't have wondered where he would get such information from. But he was, and he certainly knew his teachers wouldn't hand out information like that. This…_teacher_ was becoming more suspicious by the second.

"You should visit my academy once." It wasn't an off-handed comment, or a suggestion. It sounded as if he already knew he'd come.

Sasuke's brow furrowed.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"It might be of interest to you to look at your options," Orochimaru responded, accepting a new flute of champagne from a blank-faced waitress. He took a sip, eyes still fixed on him. "You could reach far in New York."

Despite himself, Sasuke's curiosity was peaked. He regarded him silently, searching for a humorous glint, a mocking smirk that would tell him he was playing. But he wasn't.

"Why New York?"

Once more Orochimaru's lips curled.

"Surely you intend to follow in the footsteps of your forefathers."

Again Sasuke said nothing, watching him.

"But there is just that much Konoha can teach you." Orochimaru continued, not really waiting for an answer, already knowing he was correct. Sasuke didn't like that this man seemed to know too much about him, about his ambitions. And yet, there was promise in Orochimaru's words; opportunity. He'd always been taught to seek opportunity, to further his goals. If not his education, perhaps information. He'd already slipped him something he hadn't known before.

So he listened.

"New York, on the other hand, offer endless possibilities," he took a step closer as he spoke, golden eyes gleaming with something Sasuke could not discern, "perhaps, even the chance to surpass all the great men before you."

Sasuke raised a brow.

Surpass all of them? What, his entire family?

That was more ambitious than even he could stand for.

"Your grandfather, your father, your uncle…" Orochimaru paused, smile widening, "even _your brother_."

A heavy hand grabbed Sasuke's shoulder. Turning his head sharply he came face to face with Itachi, whose gaze was trained on Orochimaru, not him. His expression was carved in stone, dark eyes cold as iron, but the way he was holding Sasuke's shoulder told him he wasn't as unaffected as he looked.

"And speaking of the devil," Orochimaru said, not at all fazed by the elder brother's presence. If anything, he looked pleased. He turned fully to face the younger man, smirk wide, golden gaze glinting.

"It's been a while, _Itachi_." His name was uttered salaciously, slithering off his tongue like something he'd like to eat. The hungry glint in his eyes enforced that impression. Had he been anything less than an Uchiha, Sasuke might have shuddered.

"Orochimaru," Itachi addressed, calmly. For one tense moment they were silent, watching each other, one with a curling smirk, and the other with no expression at all. They were equal in height, Sasuke noticed, but Itachi seemed taller, bigger. Stronger too. He was still holding him firmly by the shoulder.

"Sasuke."

Surprised at being addressed in a seeming battle of gazes between the two men, he looked up at his brother. Itachi peered down at him, gaze remaining indiscernible.

"What?" he asked, cautiously.

"You're escorting." His brother responded. "It's five to nine."

At that Sasuke glanced at his Rolex wrist watch, brow arching.

His brother was fifteen minutes off.

But before he could point it out Orochimaru cut in.

"No need to be gruff, Itachi." He said, almost chidingly. "It was merely an innocent discussion."

His gaze trained on Sasuke, glinting.

"Isn't that right, _Sasuke_?" He uttered his name as he had done with his brother. This time he couldn't suppress the small tremor.

Immediately Itachi was between them, blocking Sasuke from Orochimaru's view. Sasuke stared, caught off guard by his sudden move. Shocked that he'd lost his cool like this.

_Twice_ today.

The two men's faces were mere inches from each other. Sasuke couldn't see his brother's expression, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. He couldn't hear what the two were saying, for they spoke so softly that only the two of them were privy to the conversation. But then Itachi's volume rose enough for Sasuke to hear his last word.

"_Leave_."

Orochimaru's smirk wasn't as wide anymore, and only a moment later he gave in to Itachi's order. With a mocking bow he retreated, but not before addressing Sasuke one last time. His smile was predatory, like his eyes.

"Until we meet again, _Sasuke-kun_."

* * *

><p><span>Characters<span>:

Airisu Haruno – Sakura's mother.

Shion - is a priestess from the Land of Demons who appears in Naruto: Shippūden the Movie. In my story she is the same age as Sakura and the others, and is in their parallel class. She is also a debutante.

Haza Sarutobi – the fictional eldest son of Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, and the father of Konohamaru.

Kikiyo Sarutobi – the wife of Haza Sarutobi and the mother of Konohamaru.

Obito Uchiha – in the canon series he was a member of the Uchiha clan and a teammate of Kakashi Hatake. He died saving Kakashi during a mission, but only after giving him his Sharingan eye. In my story he is the elder cousin of Itachi, Sasuke and Shisui.

Kin Tsuchi – in the canon series she is a kunoichi from Otogakure who participated in the Chunin Exams under the orders of Orochimaru, and was later killed during the invasion of Konoha. In my story she is a student at St. Konoha and a debutante.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations<strong>:

Japanese: 

Jiji – grandfather

Otouto – little brother

Obaa-san – grandmother

Kôenkai – is a personal support group for Japanese election candidates. Because candidates often cannot rely heavily on political parties for support, they often try to build a personal organization of supporters (a kôenkai) among voters in their districts.

French:

Maman - mother

* * *

><p>AN: Yet another chapter done!

It took me a little longer than expected; life got in the way as it often does. But it's done now and I'm satisfied with the outcome.

In this chapter, everyone's assembled at Tanglewood. We get more insight into Itachi's thoughts, there are the entrances of the Haruno sisters, and of course, the first meeting between the creepiest creep of them all – Orochimaru, and Sasuke. In the next chapter there'll be more SasuSaku, dances and lots of drama! I hope you enjoyed it.

And as always, thank you to all my reviewers, Miss Tigger, LovelyDustyBlood, Luka1Sakura, yattsy, lauchoco92, MoniXD, BriBri and missjewels!

To Miss Tigger – thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm so happy that you loved the previous chapter! Yes, Hiashi Hyuuga is a strict man, but most of the Hyuugas are. But he's the biggest jerk of them all. Always thought so. And yes, Sasuke is a lot like a little boy in that chapter. But in comparison to the other men in the family, he is sort of the little baby (for once). And I have to say I loved your comparison of Sakura and Sasuke with the king and queen in chess. I hope you liked this chapter as well, and Sasuke's reaction to Sakura's entrance! P.S. no need to be sorry. I love long messages ;)

To LovelyDustyBlood – thank you for reviewing!

To Luka1Sakura – thank you for reviewing again! I'm glad you liked the previous chapter, and yes, Sasuke deserved that whack. You're right that there wasn't a conservatory ball in the previous version. There was a back-to-school party instead. But I thought it would be more interesting to assemble all the characters under the same roof ;). As for your question about the dresses, I've posted links on my profile for most of the dresses the characters have worn. I hope you liked this chapter, and that you'll review again soon!

To yattsy – thakn you so much for reviewing again! I'm happy that you liked the kiss (I'm quite satisfied with it myself), and the moment between Sakura and Serena before the ball. As for Hinata, it's difficult for her to stand up to her father (that's also how it's in the canon series unfortunately). But there'll probably be a time when enough is enough. And yes, Sakura's dress was originally her mother's, as you guessed. I'm glad you liked the chapter length as well. I think I know what you mean about Christian Grey if you mean the character in Fifty Shades, though I haven't read any of it. I hope you liked this chapter (it is a little longer than the previous one), and hope you'll review again!

To lauchoco92 – thank you for reviewing again! I'm so glad you liked the kiss between Sasuke and Sakura. I hope you liked this chapter, and Sakura's entrance to the ball.

To MoniXD – thank you for reviewing my story! I'm always happy to see new reviewers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well ;).

To BriBri – thank you for reviewing my story! I hope you liked this chapter as well.

To missjewels – thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm glad to hear that no one you knew was hurt, but of course it's a tragedy nonetheless, and it must be awful to be close to where it happened.

But I'm happy that you liked the kiss. I tried my best not to make it a cliché, with something too fluffy or too steamy. And I' glad you liked the new chapter length. Another reviewer pointed it out for me and I realized there was just too much to keep track of, so I've made them shorter to make it easier to read. As for the police report, what Sasuke discovered was that another detective lead the investigation before Orochimaru took over four months after the massacre. Said detective was put off the case due to _professional misconduct_. I hope that clears it up a bit for you :).

As for the Hyuugas, I too have had the impression that they're very strict and traditional, more so than any other clan in Konoha, so I've tried to portray them that way. I do hope you liked this chapter, and that you'll review again soon :).

* * *

><p>And please leave a review! They are the fuel to my inspiration :).<p> 


	11. Some Things are Never Easy

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything associated with it.

**Some Things are Never Easy**

_"And yet to every bad there's a worse."_

– Thomas Hardy

* * *

><p>Tanglewood Conservatories<p>

_17th of August_

If there was one thing Shikamaru hated more than being obliged to attend a party, was to be obliged to attend a party with his parents. Not because they tended to embarrass him, like most parents did, but because under the watchful eye of his mother he couldn't do any of the things he normally would. He couldn't sneak off, he couldn't have his hands in his pockets, he couldn't drink, he couldn't lie down in a remote part of the building for a nap, and worst of all – he _had_ to _dance_.

Shikamaru hated dancing.

It was a silly, frivolous activity with the sole purpose of showing off pretty little girls in pretty little dresses. Neither did it help that he wasn't very good at it. And that wasn't just because he didn't bother trying (he actually _did_, so his mother wouldn't glare him into oblivion) – he just sucked at it. On a positive note that had made him a rather unattractive escort. It was just his misfortune that his mother was the chairwoman of the Conservatory Ball Committee, creating an unyielding expectation that he would be escorting one of the troublesome debutantes. Said troublesome debutante, Kin Tsuchi, wasn't the worst of the lot. She was originally from Otogakure, but had moved the year previously to attend St. Konoha. An overconfident bitch, really, but hell, so were the rest of them. Except Hinata Hyuuga, though he hadn't been fortunate enough to be paired with the only reasonable girl in their age group. She was to be escorted by Neji, as was Hyuuga custom.

Lucky ass.

Sullenly he watched the girls being doted upon by overzealous parents, staying obediently with his family as they conversed with the Yamanakas and the Akimichis. They'd always been close, their clans forever tied together. They had served in the Imperial Japanese Navy during the World War, several being kamikaze pilots. Prior to the invasion of the Allied Forces they had made a vow to protect Konoha and each other, as proof of the memorial stone commemorating the pact between the three clans. Most were present, though the Yamanakas had been shortened to only a handful. Patriarch Hiro was still travelling in Himalaya, Ino's parents were conspicuously absent (_again_), and Ino herself was (_thankfully_) too busy circling the room to acknowledge them. Her uncle, the uptight Fū, was kissing up to Shikaku as usual, whereas her other uncle Santa was speaking to Ensui, Shikaku's younger brother. Everybody else were going about as usual.

Normally he'd have Chōji with him to make the evening endurable, but the traitor had wanted to be a good escort tonight and was trailing behind Shion (how the hell he landed that girl was beyond him) like some loyal puppy dog. He supposed he'd have to find Kin soon, so she wouldn't be in a foul mood and make a scene when he stepped on her feet during the dance. He did not need to have his mother breathing down his neck like an angry bull tonight. Ino would be doing enough of that once she found it prudent to torture him.

And of course, the moment he had thought it, she appeared with a Cheshire cat grin and a killer cleavage that made it hard to keep his mask of indifference.

"There you _are_," she exclaimed sweetly, eyes fixed on his as she glided forwards. She didn't fail to catch the attention of their families, peeking curiously at them, something Shikamaru was painfully aware of. He was also aware of the slight tilt of Ino's pink mouth as she closed the distance between them, the way her eyes twinkled with mischief, and knew she was up to create some new level of hell for him.

Anticipated it, really.

He hadn't predicted, however, the warmth of her palm as she pressed it against his cheek, or her lips that brushed his other. He stood frozen, not for the first time finding himself tongue-tied and incapable of shaping a single coherent thought. Except perhaps that her lips were soft and she smelled of jasmine.

And he reacted to it. Blood rushed to his face. The fact that she had put him in a precarious position in front of his parents hadn't even crossed his mind. But then she withdrew, scent and softness gone, and instead he was faced with that familiarly cruel edge to her smile. Her spell broke and his gaze instantly sharpened.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to." She said, as if he'd been missing.

As if she had _cared_.

Before he could gather his wits and protest she had very strategically slipped her arm through his and then turned to his parents with one of her brilliant smiles, stepping into the role of the perfect, innocent daughter of Inoichi and Jia Yamanaka.

"Mr. and Mrs. Nara," she greeted respectfully, and Shikamaru noted with dread his mother's eyes glinting with approval, and the way his father's eyebrow arched inquisitively. He didn't even dare look in the direction of Santa Yamanaka, for if he was anything like Inoichi, he was two drinks and a dark alley away from pounding him back to the Stone Age.

"I hope I can steal your son away from you for a moment," Ino continued sweetly, glancing towards him with a cruel glint. His gut clenched with dread.

_What was she up to now?_

"I must brief him on his escorting duties," Ino elaborated for his parents when they remained at loss as to why she would be seeking Shikamaru out. It wasn't much of a surprise, really. They hadn't been friends since elementary school, when Ino had gotten far too busy chasing Sasuke to even acknowledge his existence. The family get-togethers hadn't been frequent either, so this would have to be the first time since the Midwinter's Eve festival that they had been seen together at all. _And_ they had secretly agreed never to show any form of affection as it would irrevocably give their parents the crazy idea of arranging their wedding before they even turned twenty – an agreement Ino had just broken.

Totally giving his parents a very _wrong_ impression.

"Shikamaru?" His mother asked, confused and strangely void of her usual sharpness. And by God, he thought he could discern a hint of anticipation. "What is she talking about?"

He hadn't the slightest fucking idea.

"Oh, did you forget to tell them?" Ino chided him, still smiling. He simply stared back, utterly dumbfounded. Once more she directed herself towards his parents, ever a _charmer_ (totally not being sarcastic here).

"Mrs. Himoto has made some last-minute changes to the lineup," she explained, tone carefully apologetic towards his mother, who was supposed to run this event, "and Shikamaru ended up being my escort for tonight."

Shikamaru suspected that the explanation wasn't as simple as that Mira Himoto had made some last-minute changes, but he wasn't about to voice that thought with both his mother and Ino present.

"Well, that explains why the programs weren't handed out," his mother said, exasperatedly, and took a sip of champagne. And with that everyone had accepted Ino's explanation, for Mrs. Himoto certainly was the type to do something like this.

Just not without some _urging_ by another.

He glared at Ino's pretty, smiling face from the corner of his eye.

She noticed.

"Would you mind _awfully_ if I stole him away for a moment?" she inquired, her fingers discreetly pinching his arm. He utterly refused to give a reaction. Instead he fixed all his attention on his mother as he anticipated her answer, and hoped that she for once could do what he wished and refuse Ino's request.

"Not at all, dear."

It was a sad fact that no one refused Ino Yamanaka.

And fuck it, his mother called her _dear_.

As in not the painfully strained _de-ar_ she used to address Temari (and there was no secret that she hadn't liked the Kazekage's daughter _at all_), but the gentle, kind-spoken _dear_ she could only use for those few and far between that she actually liked. Which meant that she liked Ino, the girl whom he absolutely could _not_ be with, more than his girlfriend. _Ex_-girlfriend, really, which made the fact that his mother hadn't liked her a far more bitter pill to swallow.

Caught in his own dark thoughts he hadn't realized that Ino had somehow managed to tow him along towards the side door where they were supposed to line up before entering the conservatory. When he did register it his temper flared suddenly and he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to turn and face him. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in shock, nearly stumbling in her four-inch heels.

Inwardly he'd hoped she'd break an ankle and give him the perfect excuse to escape. But since it was no longer an option once she had caught her footing (unless he pushed her - a prospect that was becoming increasingly tempting), he resorted to ask the one question that had circulated in his brain like a broken track record since she had linked arms with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded to know, unusually sharp in his tone. Ino hadn't expected it either, and it took her a moment to recover from the surprise at his temper. Once she had, her shocked expression melted into that self-satisfactory grin that he'd come to despise.

"I told you," she said, as if it was obvious. Calmly she removed his fingers from her wrist. "I'm getting to the bottom of this little conspiracy of yours whether you want to help or not."

"_And,"_ she added, strangely sharp as well, "I also said I'd make your life hell if you didn't tell me what you're up to."

He opened his mouth to tell her that she hadn't said she'd make his life hell, more like _difficult_, only to come to the conclusion that the two were probably the one and same in Ino's limited dictionary.

"And since school isn't going to be enough to break you," she continued, cutting off whatever protest he was meant to dish up, "I'm invading your social life."

He must've had quite an expression by then, for Ino's smile widened viciously.

"Mrs. Himoto was all too happy to change the lineup for tonight," she told him, gloating. "I don't really think she's very fond of Kin's _noveau riche_ background."

A jab at him for choosing someone cheap, probably. Not that he cared for that. His head was still revolving around the word _social life_. Did she just say that to try and scare him or did she actually mean to invade his social life?

"Anyway, I'm sure she'll get over you with Kiba as her escort," she continued once more. "Seeming as you won't be escorting her at all this season."

He felt as though he had collided with a freight train.

"_What_?"

"You are to be my permanent escort for the season," Ino announced as was a simple matter of fact and not a death penalty. But she knew, judging by the glint in her eyes. She stepped closer, their faces almost touching as she looked into his eyes.

"Are you breaking yet?" she inquired, softly.

He wasn't given time to respond.

"Anyway, they'll be opening the ball with the _Blue Danube_," she said, taking a step away, hand nonchalantly tossing her curls over her shoulder. They caught the light of the chandelier and shone like liquid gold. Twinkling periwinkle eyes peered at him beneath long, thick lashes, lips smiling softly. Hadn't it been for her evil intents, she would've been stunning.

"And please don't try to embarrass me," she warned him as an afterthought. "If you do, I'll start popping by your house for dinner."

Again her lips curled viciously, giving her once more the appearance of a hungry banshee.

"Such an advantage that your house is in a walking distance of mine."

It was an ominous threat. And at this point he had no reason to think she wouldn't do it. He could in fact vividly imagine her appearing on their doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and inviting herself for dinner at the large teak table in their dining room, politely conversing as she kicked his shin or pinched his arm throughout the whole ordeal. Maybe even plant more seeds of expectation for an engagement and grandchildren before they turned twenty-five in his parents' heads.

"So," Ino said, snapping him from his thoughts, "are you going to tell me what you and your friends are up to?"

The vicious playfulness was gone, and she was suddenly serious. She studied him, almost solemn, as she said her next words.

"Last chance."

_Last chance to come clean before I turn your life into hellfire and ashes. _

He was tempted. Simply blurt the scheme and run off and hide until he was sure she wouldn't come after him with a butcher's knife. But he knew he couldn't do that. Firstly because if Ino didn't murder him, then Sasuke would, and secondly because at this point, using Sakura to extract information from her sister was their best option. Giving away the scheme would without a doubt ruin any chance of that, for judging by the look of it, Sakura Haruno wasn't prone to forgive or forget. And so, while Ino waited for his answer, he remained stonily silent.

It didn't take long before she lost her patience.

"Going once," she said irritably, counting with her manicured fingers, "going twice," she paused, offering his last opportunity, "and your chance is up."

For a moment she looked irritable, lips pursing as they often did when she didn't get what she wanted, before she sighed and flicked her golden locks over her shoulder, as if brushing away her frustration. She looked away, gaze studying the crowds as they slowly made their way to the conservatory, only leaving the debutantes and the escorts behind.

"You should've taken the chance," she said in a matter-of-factly tone, before giving him an indiscernible look. She looked away before he could really discern the expression, and then she moved towards him, her slender arm slipping through his as easily as it had done ten minutes ago.

"Now," she said, smiling, her free hand gesturing at the group by the doors of the conservatory, "shall we?"

* * *

><p>At five to nine the debutantes were already flocking by the side doors leading to the conservatory, some already equipped with their escorts. Sasuke surveyed the group apprehensively, not at all looking forward to be part of this. Neji was there, he noted, standing like some terrifying watchdog by his cousin's side, and Inuzuka, who looked rather displeased with Kin Tsuchi on his arm. There was Rock Lee, the moronic mini-Gai in the year above, dressed in clashing green and orange like he was some overgrown leprechaun, and Shino Aburame, his face almost concealed beneath his ridiculously high collar. Karin, whom he was supposed to escort, wasn't there.<p>

Which was strange. He would have expected her to be the first to be here, so not to miss one second with him.

Not that he was complaining.

He had too much on his plate right now to deal with the obnoxious redhead more than necessary. At that he glanced back at the crowds. Orochimaru hadn't paid much heed to Itachi's order, as he stood at the center of the room, with Danzō Shimura. He must have noticed him looking, for his gaze lifted from his conversation with the former headmaster, yellow eyes glinting. The tip of his tongue swept over his lower lip hungrily. Sasuke turned his head away in disgust.

What a creep.

But he had given him another clue as to why no one had solved the mystery. Either Orochimaru had divided his focus while leading the investigation, which could have caused him to overlook vital clues - or he hadn't been the one to lead it at all. It didn't seem realistic that he would manage to successfully oversee the investigation while teaching in New York on the other side of the world. At the very least, someone else must have taken the reigns when he was absent. And then there still was the matter of the detective who was put off the case. He would have to pressure Shikamaru to visit his father's office again. There was something in those files that had to give away their identity.

"There you are, Sasuke _darling_," a high-pitched voice called, breaking him from his thoughts. He barely refrained from wincing as Mira Himoto approached him, her smile too wide and too sweet to bode well for him. She grasped his arm, a cloud of sweet perfume overwhelming him as she tugged him along.

"I've been looking _all_ over for you," she continued dramatically, sweeping her free hand at the room for emphasis though she probably hadn't been searching that long. Then, in a chiding tone: "Your debutante is waiting for you."

Sasuke's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Karin isn't here." He tried to clarify for her, wondering if perhaps she was high on her perfume. That substance could drug an elephant. Mira laughed, apparently finding something very humorous with his explanation.

"Oh, you're not escorting Karin, dear." She told him merrily, chidingly, as if he was expected to know that. His gaze slimmed and his shoulders tensed.

_Not escorting Karin? _

What the fuck was she going on about?

"It would be inappropriate," she continued, again as if he should know that. But he didn't know that it was inappropriate, couldn't understand why it would be. It wasn't like these pairings were matchmakings like in the old days. Nor had Karin's escapades been known to anyone, certainly not Mira, who would've adamantly refused to allow her to be a debutante before she had been sent to reform school in Paris and changed her ways.

Like the Parisians were any better.

"What?" Sasuke asked, thoroughly and utterly confused. Perhaps it was Mira's perfume clouding his senses. Or perhaps it was Mira high on perfume that caused this to make no sense. She ignored him, or was too caught up in her own little world to register his question, continuing without elaborating any further on this sudden switch-up.

"Sakura Haruno is a far better match," she said offhandedly, like if her words didn't just crack the earth beneath him and sent him flying into the pitfalls of hell. He immediately remembered the kiss, and the slap, and the look she'd given him as she'd walked away.

"_Fuck no."_

It slipped from his mouth without thought, and he tried to rip himself from her grasp. But Mira was astoundingly strong for her stature, not even budging. She blinked, confused at his reaction.

"The Harunos are one of our oldest and noblest clans." She said, appalled at his behavior. Her fingers tightened their grip on his arm, warningly. He stopped trying to get out of her grasp, if only to hide the fact that he was unable to do that. Being bested by a woman thrice his age.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"It is far more appropriate."

He didn't give a flying fuck about it being appropriate. If the two of them were paired off together someone was going to _die_.

Preferably the stupid goose holding onto him.

"But the Uzumakis have been part of the Senju clan for centuries." He protested, unable to believe that he was arguing with Mira Himoto about the value of Karin Uzumaki's lineage. Had the whole fucking world gone under while he wasn't looking?

"Mito Uzumaki was married to the First Hokage." He reminded her. She was not fazed.

"Yes, yes," she said, waving away his argument with her hand. "But your family has been in conflict with the Senjus for just as long," she reminded him in a condescending manner that made him scowl, for he was _perfectly_ aware of that, "whereas the Harunos have been friends with your family for years."

He would have liked to snap at her had he had a good counter argument. But it was difficult to argue cold hard facts. They _had_ been friends. Close friends, in fact. Airisu had been a frequent guest, always present for tea and late-night conversation over wine and cheese. And then there was Kenji Haruno, Madara's partner, cheerful and teasing in a manner that no one else would dare to be in the presence of the Uchihas.

"Your parents would assuredly not be satisfied with you being matched with the Uzumakis."

And he couldn't deny that his father wouldn't have been pleased to have his son matched to one of Mito Uzumaki's distant relatives.

"And I'm sure Airisu and Kenshi Haruno would have wanted the same."

_Yes_, he was aware of that, he thought darkly, glaring at Mira.

Fucking know-it-all.

"But…"

"Look, _dear_." She cut him off, emphasizing her words in a menacing way. The sugary sweet demeanor melted away to something that, for the lack of a better word, was terrifying.

"Sakura Haruno is the granddaughter of Seraphina Haruno," _like he hadn't heard that one before_, "the founder of this debutante season," yes_, he'd heard that too_, "and her having less than you as her escort would be an insult to her name."

He didn't really have anything to argue with on that point, unless of course he'd reveal the incident between them in the school bathroom. An incident he intended to take with him to the grave if he could help it. Still, he opened his mouth to protest once more, only to be cut off sharply.

"This is not a question of whether you like it or not," Mira told him, "you'll do it anyway."

She pinned him with an unnerving look that made him want to cower and look away. Though she rarely was able to scare anyone, this certainly was one of her moments. And then when she was certain she had gotten her point across her dangerous expression melted back into a smile.

"Now, let's find your debutante." She patted his arm comfortingly.

Silently he wondered if she was bipolar.

"Sakura, _darling!_" Mira called out suddenly, catching him off-guard. His eyes instantly sought the group they were approaching, easily locating Sakura's pink locks, the tantalizing green silk of her dress. She was standing with her back to them, talking with Tenten who had come to show her moral support _(more like gloating, but whatever)_. She turned at the call of her name, smiling sweetly at Mira's approach, only for her face to fall completely at the sight of him.

Clearly, she'd heard the news as well.

"See whom I found for you."

She let go of his arm and nudged him forward, as if he were a toddler being forced to play with another child by his mother. But he was too busy trying to keep his mask of indifference to glower at her. His stomach ache had returned, dread and guilt combined with that strange feeling he could not describe. Sakura was looking close to fleeing, green eyes darting in search of an exit, Tenten glaring daggers at him over her shoulder. But before anyone had the chance to run off or attempt murder on him Mira came upon Sakura, utterly oblivious to the growing tension.

"Oh, come now darling," she cooed, a hand on her back forcing her to step closer to him. Her fingers were curled into fists at her sides. Sasuke watched, apprehensively.

"Don't be shy, you two," Mira continued, tone assuring as she made Sakura move towards him. Tenten opened her mouth, clearly wishing to protest, but her mother was quicker.

"Offer her your arm like a proper gentleman," she instructed him, gesturing with her hand at his arm. He didn't follow the instruction, didn't move at all. Not out of spite, but because he wanted to see whether Sakura would run off or take the last step before he did so. He wasn't about to offer his arm only for her to stride off and make him look like an idiot.

Sakura stood still too, regarding him haughtily. Her leg twitched beneath the silk, the way it would when one intended to step forward only to screech to a halt before the movement was done. And then, reluctantly, she took the last steps towards him. As she did, he offered his arm silently. She paused at his movement, staring at his arm as if it was alien. Slowly she lifted her hand; it twitched midway like her leg had, and then her arm was linked with his.

Mira clapped her hands together as she always did when excited, gaze twinkling with great personal satisfaction.

"Such a handsome pair." It wasn't so much a compliment to them as it was a compliment to her own brilliance for picking them to be together, like when choosing decorations for a table setting that went particularly well together.

They refused to look at each other at that point; their arms only linked loosely, just a movement from separating the limbs. It wasn't something Sasuke found normal – he was used to girls clinging on for dear life, afraid that if they let go he'd slink away to another girl _(which was usually an accurate assumption)_. To have a girl – and Sakura Haruno nonetheless – barely holding onto him as if he got an illness she didn't want to catch was both strange and rather insulting. Although he supposed he had no one else to blame but himself.

And so in the absurdity of it all, at loss as to how to make this less uncomfortable, Sasuke found nothing better to do than study their linked arms from the corner of his eye. Her fingers were loosely resting at his elbow, small and thin and delicate looking, and her wrist was very slim, causing the diamond bracelet he'd noticed before to slide half down her lower arm. The skin looked soft, and while he'd already kissed her he came to realize that he had no idea how her skin felt to the touch. He repressed the sudden urge to caress the back of her hand, finding it ridiculous and intimate and the thought of it made his stomach clench again.

"Lovely," Mira continued, too caught up in herself to really notice the discomfort of the two teenagers in front of her. Behind her Tenten rolled her eyes and threw an apologetic look at Sakura, who shrugged her shoulders helplessly. She still refused to look at him.

"And speaking of lovely!" Mira exclaimed, catching all three's attentions. She was looking directly past them, and curious, both Sakura and Sasuke turned their heads to find an even unlikelier pairing make their approach. Sasuke watched disbelievingly as Ino Yamanaka and Shikamaru, arms linked, walked towards them, the first looking like a Cheshire cat that had just eaten her canary and the latter in utter gloom, face shadowed and resigned. Sasuke threw Shikamaru an inquisitive look, wondering how he too had landed himself in misfortune, but he only scowled and muttered something under his breath that made Ino pinch his arm. Sakura made a noise that resembled a suppressed growl, and he threw a sideways glance at her. Her face was rising with color, eyes crackling with fire like it had when she had shoved him into the bathroom some hours ago. But this time her glare was directed at Ino, who smilingly ignored it.

The fierce look suited her somehow, Sasuke thought, better than the docile manner she often held herself with. And in her anger she had unconsciously tightened her hold on his arm.

It felt pleasingly natural.

"Yes, a very good choice this was," Mira said, circling the new arrivals, once more complimenting her own brilliance. Apparently discomfort mattered little as long as the couples visually suited together. They were elegant contrasts of light and dark if nothing else, Sasuke supposed, though that wouldn't save them under the scrutiny of their audience.

"Now, come along."

Mutely they followed behind the overbearing ambassador's wife like a herd of sheep, towards the door that led into the conservatory. There she pivoted on her feet with the quickness and grace of a youth, forcing them all to a halt. Behind them followed the rest of their peers, and Sasuke took note of Karin on Naruto's arm – both looking rather displeased with being paired off with each other.

"Sasuke and Sakura," Mira addressed them, "you will take the lead. Come and stand here."

They did as instructed, if a bit reluctantly, and stood in front of the oak door as the rest of the group was placed in line behind them. Sasuke could hear from Mira's instructions that Ino and Shikamaru were standing behind them, then Neji and Hinata, and Karin and Naruto behind them again. But he did not turn around, simply stared right at the door, keen gaze tracing the lines in the lacquered wood, contemplating whether or not he should say something to Sakura before they entered. It probably wouldn't help on the tension between them, but if she got more tension in her back something might break and he was, if nothing else, looking for a way to ease the bit of guilt still churning in his stomach. His only problem was that he had no idea what to say that wouldn't make this situation worse.

"I hope your dancing is better than your manners," she said; an offhanded jab intended to provoke as she stared stiffly ahead. He looked at her, surprised that she had even uttered a syllable to him, though the words didn't really register. She threw a sideways glance at him for effect, and then continued to watch the door blindly. He mirrored her movement, looking at the door as well. Momentarily he considered answering in the same manner, but kept silent, reminding himself that he was walking on fragile glass with her. He needed to be tactical; cautious. So he said nothing, if only to prevent further friction between them. But it didn't help on the tension, which seemed to grow with each ticking second like air in a sunbathed hothouse.

It was a relief then, when Mira approached once more, and while the tension still remained, the stifling silence evaporated. She checked them over for obvious faults, and when there was none, she opened the door and stepped aside for them to go. They walked into a covered corridor, almost like an ornate kairō that had been converted with glass windows to keep nature and weather outside. It gave a fine view of the original zen garden and the far-stretched golf courses beyond it, which had been littered with paper lanterns waiting to be lit once the sun had gone down. Their steps echoed the stone floor, Sakura's heels clicking sharply in contrast to the subdued sound of his Oxfords, followed by the clatter of feet from the rest that came behind. At the end of the corridor was a door of glass, thrown wide open, warm air sifting in.

Neither one of them had expected the sharp flash of a camera blitz once they entered. Sasuke blinked against the light, and he was irritated, that they hadn't been told that the fucking photographer would be waiting in ambush. But it was quickly forgotten as there was another flash, and then a third, and he felt rather than saw Sakura stumble. Instinctually his arm slipped from hers to grasp her waist, holding tightly at the slippery silk as his free hand took hold of her wrist. Her hand in turn came to hold onto the arm on her waist. They stopped completely to let Sakura get her footing back, and the camera flashed again. Her fingers clenched his under the sharp light, head bowed, and green eyes tightly closed. It didn't take a genius to realize the cause of it. In hindsight it had been obvious.

He threw a sharp look at the photographer, who either frightened by him or disinterested by the scene turned his camera at Ino and Shikamaru, who had come to a pause behind them. With the camera gone Sakura seemed to gather herself, head rising and feet finding solid ground. But when her eyes opened they were glassy with tears, and her fingers continued to clench his hand. It took another moment before he was convinced she wouldn't collapse on the spot if he loosened his hold on her waist, but he was unable to go back to linking arms with the way her hand was clinging desperately to his. And since he wasn't about demean himself to play tug-of-war about his hand with an emotional wreck he instead placed his hand on the small of her back and gently tried to nudge her forwards to avoid causing a further chaos.

She refused to look at him when they continued, embarrassed perhaps, and gradually loosened her hold on his hand as they went down a corridor lined with rare orchids and green plats. The walls soon opened into the very heart of the building; a large, circular room, crowned by a massive glass dome that rose above, carried on the backs of metal pillars. And directly beneath was a fountain, dominated by a snake-like sea monster that rose from the pool of cold water, a sleek and slender mermaid gripping it by its scales as she arched, restraining it with all her might. Water spilled from the beast's mouth into the pool, droplets tracing the green bronze of the mermaid's straining arms and arched form. The guests had crowded around the walls, and a small orchestra in green and gold waited patiently to start the music. They walked around the fountain, parading themselves in front of their families until each pair had gotten enough room within the circle which they were supposed to dance. When they came to a halt, Sasuke took charge at positioning them. With deliberate slowness he placed his hand on her waist, as her eyes remained fixed on a spot over his shoulder, and took hold of her free hand, bringing it to his shoulder. She complied with his directing, though her shoulders remained tense and she could no longer hide her discomfort in her expression.

The room was silent as they waited for the cue to begin, and heard clearly the soft tapping of the conductor's wooden baton before the first tenors of Strauss' _Blue Danube_ began. In what must have been a moment of nervousness she looked up at him, eyes wide with worry. Whether it was because they had never danced together before or the fear that he might think to humiliate her he didn't know, but feeling compelled to somehow reassure her, he gave her hand a light squeeze.

And then they were moving.

At first, their steps were stiff, clumsy, both trying to lead and both failing to co-operate. It gave their natural turns a rather awkward appearance, and the reverse turns painfully stilted. And people were noticing, whispering, and exchanging looks that said "_really_?"

It hit a nerve.

So he screwed the tactical part of his plan, the one that was supposed to keep things from getting worse, and took the lead. He tugged her closer, and before she could protest he was leading them through the reverse turns. She had no other choice than follow, and was surprisingly graceful in her movements now that she didn't have the control over their steps. But she was still refusing to look at him, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. He was used to being the silent party, and normally wouldn't have objected to having a quiet partner, considering the obnoxious girls he tended to end up with. But Sakura's refusal to look at him and the discreet but painstakingly obvious way she was trying to keep as much distance between them as possible didn't sit well at all. He couldn't really find a good reason why it bothered him, for hell, less than a week ago he hadn't even given her a thought and certainly hadn't cared, and yet it did.

Bother him, that is.

And as before he couldn't get his head around what he was supposed to do to change that. So instead of doing something as pathetic as staring at her until she looked at him, he too looked in another direction. His gaze swept over the crowd as they circled the fountain, catching sight of his aniki and that vicious little cobra on his arm, and his uncle, some distance away.

There was something else, too. In the very back of the room.

A flame; sparked from a silver lighter, lighting the tip of a cigarette that glowed red-hot in the dark corner. It revealed a face of pale skin and shadows, and strangely familiar eyes. He strained to get a better look as he continued to circle, curious at the fact that someone dared to smoke inside the conservatory when such had been explicitly forbidden. But the flow of couples made it difficult, for he couldn't just stop and before he knew it the fountain was in the way. There was nothing in the corner when they had moved around the fountain again; except the last white tendrils of smoke and an open side door by a citrus tree.

He must have looked strange, straining his head like that; for once he tore his eyes away from the side door and the empty grounds outside Sakura was looking at him curiously, eyebrows quirked. Had he been anything less than an Uchiha, he might have blushed with embarrassment at being caught. Instead he simply stared back, completely silent.

Neither one looked away this time.

He found that she had very expressive eyes; they seemed to change color and shade with her emotions and the way the light of the sun hit them. But they didn't match the rest of her face, which remained in a stony expression. The last strains of the waltz soon faded, and they came to a halt a little off-beat from the rest, though they hadn't noticed. Then the applause broke out, and their gazes broke. When he felt Sakura withdraw he let her go. She turned to walk away, but paused, and threw a look over her shoulder.

It was a dark look.

And just like that he was back to zero with her.

He had no idea why. Despite the last thirty minutes or so, it didn't seem that he had learned a thing about what was going on in that girl's head.

He had learned something else, though.

Her skin was softer than it looked.

* * *

><p>After the first dance, most of the groups had detached themselves and people intermingled more freely than before. It had been a relief when Mira Himoto and the ambassador had become preoccupied with the Uzumakis and the Inuzukas, and Sayuri had been pulled away with Kurenai to dote upon an old school friend's engagement ring. Once free of the Himotos, another known figure had made her approach. Hana Inuzuka had been one of the few girls whom he had tolerated the company of – a feat, considering her family. But then again she had never been much like her relatives, certainly not her feral mother Tsume. Composed, level-headed, far gentler both in manner and appearance; void of the wildness both her mother and her brother possessed. She was on the other hand certainly not a gentle woman: armed with insight and a sharp tongue that had made it very difficult for Itachi to find anything tolerable about her.<p>

"Belated felicitations," she told him upon approach, ignoring all courtesy, instead greeting him with a sardonic smile. She swept a glass of champagne from a passing tray as she paused in front of him, silver skirts flaring. Her eyes, dark and hard, spoke volumes of her opinion.

"Hana," he greeted her politely, void of any warmth he might previously have held for her. It was a mutual enmity; her smile sharp enough to cut rock. She threw a sideways glance at Sayuri, who was watching the two of them carefully, before turning her head to face him again, smile a little sharper.

"I was surprised to hear of it when I got back from Hong Kong," she said. "I hadn't expected such a hasty engagement from someone like you."

It was more of a jab than an observation. He was already too used to them, and didn't even blink. She wasn't one to give up, however.

"But then again, you've done some very unexpected things these past years." She threw another glance at Sayuri, emphasizing her opinion of his choice of wife. A choice that was none of her business, though clearly she had made it so. Old high school loyalties, he supposed. Hana had always despised Sayuri, even when it was uncalled for. And, like many others, she had a weak spot for Serena. This, the constant meddling in his affairs, had happened many times before, and so he did not bother to give her a warning look to tell her she was treading dangerous ground. She would continue anyway, and he would have no choice but to tolerate it.

It was therefore inevitable that she would bring her up.

"I see that Serena is back." Her eyes darted in the direction that said woman must have been, but he refrained from following her gaze. It was a dangerous thing, to look at her for long, like it was with beauties from the legends; mermaids, sirens, yuki-onnas. He knew, had felt the force of it that night at Taka Nomiya. Fallen for it, given into it.

Something he could not afford to do.

His gaze drifted to Madara, standing with the head of the Kurama clan, one of his many likely allies.

There was too much at stake yet.

"Have you at all spoken to her?" Hana inquired, breaking his line of thought. He looked at her, and those hard, accusing eyes staring right back. _She was a perfect champion_, he thought, almost wryly, _rising to defend the princess without even having to be asked_. Her question was answered with silence, which she interpreted as a "_no_". The edges of her mouth pulled downwards at this, though she probably had known the answer beforehand.

"Or were you just too busy sticking your tongue down her throat?" It was spoken lightly, though the tone was anything but. For once, he was not prepared for her sharp remark, and in a moment's weakness, his gaze flashed with surprise. She saw it, and it must have been quite a sight, with the way the edges of her mouth twitched.

"Your fiancée is fond of gossiping in the ladies' room," she informed him with a form of vicious satisfaction, pleased to place a dent in his fiancée's already dented façade. But whether she realized it or not, it placed a dent in his as well. In retrospect he should have known that Sayuri's clingy behavior had been sparked by something more than simply Serena's presence in Konoha. He had not predicted, however, that the incident with Serena had somehow become common knowledge to her. It hadn't come from Serena herself, certainly. And then it seemed to make sense, the way Kurenai Yuhi had been looking at him throughout the evening. A loyal friend like her would never have kept it secret if she had seen him stray from Sayuri's side.

Another meddling woman he needed to keep an eye on.

"Maybe you should put a muzzle on her," Hana suggested, a little mirthful at the prospect. "I can get you one, if you like."

He gave her a hard look. She pared it with a sharp smile.

"Why, _Hana_!" Sayuri's overly pleasant voice reached them, and Hana's gaze flickered towards her. Itachi did not have to look to know that she was approaching, with her heels clicking and the blue silk skirts rustling. Nor was he surprised that she would place a delicate hand on his shoulder as she brushed past, purposely making a statement to the other woman. "It is so _nice_ to see you again!"

Hana's smile had taken an almost feral edge, but she allowed Sayuri to kiss her cheek. She did not return the gesture however, her gaze hard as she spoke. "Why, _Sayuri_," she said, sweet and venomous, "it is _nice_ to see you again as well."

For a moment the two women simply watched each other, like warriors preparing to duel, smiles speaking volumes of how much they despised one another. Itachi observed them silently over the rim of his wineglass, having no intention of being drawn into the women's little battle. He felt rather than saw Kurenai approach to stand on the sideline like himself, undoubtedly anxious as to what the end result would be. The last time Hana and Sayuri went at each other, over six months ago at Paulownia Lodge, Sayuri had ended up in one of her tantrums and locked herself up in the bathroom, smashing bottles and having fits of hysterics. And while Hana's words had been unusually spiteful that evening, it hadn't really justified Sayuri's childish reactions in the wake of that.

"Congratulations on your engagement," Hana continued, gesturing with her hand at the large diamond ring on Sayuri's finger. It had been an heirloom of his clan that she had coveted since childhood; his mother's engagement ring. He had thought it suitable, for the night he proposed.

"Though I must say I was a little surprised," Hana's voice interrupted his thoughts, tone pleasant and full of spiteful intentions. Sayuri knew the tone well, after years on the receiving end of it, and her shoulders tensed.

"_Oh_?" she inquired, voice light.

"Well, you don't seem like each other's types." Itachi might have found it humorous that Hana would use the same argument as she always did in her matches with him, but he could already predict where this was going, and the outcome of it.

"And what type would I be into?" Sayuri asked, still in that light tone, though strained.

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of you," was Hana's response. "I was thinking of your fiancé." Her dark gaze flickered to him with a challenging glint, lips curling maliciously. "I thought he was into the dark-haired, green-eyed type of woman."

Itachi's gaze sharpened when Hana looked at him again, but she was relentless when she first took a dig and ignored him altogether. Sayuri turned her head to look at him, barely maintaining her smiling mask though he could still clearly see the rising feeling of doubt in her eyes. He felt a trickle of guilt, knowing that her doubt had been reinforced by his misstep in that alley, and so he stepped forward in her defense. Sayuri gave him a smile of relief; somehow his approach rebuilt her confidence. She turned back to Hana, donning one of her sharp smiles as she retaliated.

"I suppose that type wasn't good enough for him."

Itachi narrowed his gaze a fraction, stopping behind her. The jab had been intended for Hana, but it didn't stop from rubbing him the wrong way. Hana noticed, as she always did, and for once, he wished she hadn't. It spurred her on, and she dug a little deeper.

Too deep.

"Or maybe there's another reason for this madness," she responded, though once more her gaze was fixed on him. Her voice turned hard, demanding. "Isn't there, _Itachi_?"

"_That is enough_ Hana," he warned her, taking them all aback with his sharpness. Sayuri looked up at him, gaze wide, whereas Hana remained silent, glaring, as if she couldn't believe he had put her in her place. He had never done that before, hadn't intended to do it either. But his patience had worn dangerously thin with the way everyone had been on his back since Serena's return, and finding himself being questioned so openly in front of his fiancée had him at the end of his tolerance. He met Hana's gaze with an icy countenance, until she stepped down.

"I'm just voicing my opinion," she finally said, subdued by his look.

"Maybe you should go now," Sayuri suggested sweetly, unable to hide her satisfaction at his support. Her arm slipped through his, and she gave his bicep a light squeeze. Gratitude, perhaps. But Hana wasn't one to take orders, for she remained where she stood, gaze focused on something behind them. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards.

"Oh, I think I'll stay," she said.

Sayuri's hand twitched, and she barely contained her frustration. To her Hana was a leech she couldn't so easily remove, no matter how much she tried.

"Why?" she asked, a little high-pitched. "Haven't you said what you needed to say?"

"Oh, I have," Hana responded, smiling. "But I'm dying to know what _she_ might say."

She gestured behind them with her hand. With a sense of knowing who it was, they both turned around, and Sayuri's grip went tighter than before. Approaching was of course Serena, on the arm of Minato Namikaze. They were both smiling, and pleasant as they greeted Rui Himoto and his wife. Mira was the first to greet them in return, reaching forward to kiss Serena's cheeks like a family member might do. Now, under normal circumstances the mother of the bride wouldn't be very fond of the groom's ex, but Mira was a curious case. In her mind there was nothing that presented a threat to her daughter's engagement, and so there was nothing wrong in socializing with Serena. Her biggest reason for welcoming the woman so warmly as she did however, was based on the fact that Serena had once been one of her _potentials_, one that had blossomed to success with her skyrocket career. A success Mira likely perceived to be hers as well, particularly since Sayuri had never become a professional ballerina, much to her mother's disappointment. It was a sore spot with Sayuri, feeling sidelined, and not just simply on the basis that she could not execute a perfect _en pointe_.

Itachi looked down at her, and saw the insecure teenage girl she hid behind her polished surface shine through. He understood it, pitied her for her fundamental lack in confidence. She wasn't much different from Sasuke in that aspect, for he too had often found himself in Itachi's shadow, and hence continuously been overlooked by their father. That insecurity was often reflected in Sayuri, who had for most of her life been overshadowed by Serena, even with her own mother. Charisma and charm came natural to her in a way that Sayuri had to practice, and so she had always been a step behind. A decade of succeeding on her own really did little to mend insecurities stemming from her childhood. And now her mother was once more rubbing salt in those wounds, doting upon her daughter's rival.

Though knowing there was little he could do to mend her insecurities when it came to her mother, Itachi felt compelled to do something, particularly seeing as she knew of his encounter with Serena. So he gave Sayuri's hand a comforting squeeze. The gesture was so uncharacteristic she looked up at him in surprise, but it melted into a thankful smile, her cheeks rising with color. She was beautiful this way, he thought, smiling and secure. But it never lasted.

It took less than a minute before Mira tugged the pair along towards them, seeing it as a perfect opportunity to reintroduce them all. As if they had been long lost friends, instead of rivals and past lovers and all things that led to train crashes and not happy endings.

"Sayuri!" Mira exclaimed to her daughter, whose posture straightened like a soldier before going into battle. "Look at whom I found!"

It wasn't a find Sayuri could ever be thrilled over, but she plastered on a smile and pretended that everything was fine. Itachi watched the three of them approach, Mira holding Serena by the hand like a mother. He kept his gaze stiffly on the women, rather than on Serena's and Minato's linked arms, but greeted the Hokage with a respectful nod, as was custom to him.

"Oh, it is so great to see you again, Hokage-sama," Sayuri said in her most pleasant voice when the pair paused in front of them. "It is good to see you as well, Miss Sayuri," Minato replied, kindly.

"I hope your trip to Tokyo was worth your while," Sayuri continued, stalling the inevitability of having to acknowledge Serena's presence. Serena watched in silent humor, not once looking in his direction. He did, however, and found that the dim lights of Taka Nomiya hadn't done her justice. She was lovelier now when she was not cast in shadow, her eyes clear and green in a frame of dark lashes, her hair darker and silkier beneath the last glare of the sun. But it also amplified the acute wariness in her gaze; the look of an animal prepared to be attacked. It might have simply been because of him, because she expected a scene with Sayuri, and yet he had the feeling that she bore that wariness often. He could still remember the way she had stepped back in that alley, and no darkness could have hidden that, for a moment, she had been scared of him.

The more he thought of it, the more he didn't like it.

"Se-re_-na_." She shifted when Sayuri greeted her (_in a tone that was painfully artificial, even for her_), breaking him from his line of thought. The two women did not make any gesture to step closer, as if standing on either side of a large rift in the ground. Both were smiling coldly.

"Sayuri," Serena greeted in turn, pleasantly, yet void of any real warmth. Anyone with eyes or ears could hardly miss the tension between them. Anyone except Mira Himoto, of course.

And then Serena met his gaze, her eyes glinting with steel.

"Itachi." The way she uttered his name sounded foreign, void of something that had always been there. "Nice to see you again," she continued, darting a look at Sayuri. "_Both_ of you."

"Have you met the happy couple since coming back to Konoha?" Mira inquired, still utterly oblivious to the tension. Sayuri, if possible, tensed up even more at her mother's question. Itachi peered at her from the corner of his eye, knew from the way she didn't look at him that she had already seen Serena before tonight. Perhaps even sought her out.

Around them people were not so lost to the situation; Kurenai had repositioned herself only inches from her friend in a protective gesture, whereas Hana had taken a front-row seat, facing them rather than remaining at their backs. Serena either had not noticed her, or ignored her presence as she kept her gaze trained on them. Minato noticed, but like a parent he chose to ignore the tiffs between the children and involved himself in a discussion with Rui instead. Itachi would have preferred to do the same, but he knew this was of his own doing and hence left no room for him to excuse himself without earning the anger of at least four females. Five, if word reached Konan by tomorrow.

"Briefly and separately," was her response, leaving no doubt whatsoever of her previous run-ins with them. Her smile was as sharp as it was cold, like a double-edged blade.

The silence that followed was painful, emphasizing the revelation of her statement, and even Mrs. Himoto was at loss, her smile dwindling with confusion. Perhaps taking pity on her, or satisfied that she had gotten her point across, Serena spoke again, her pretty, shallow smile in place.

"So how did the two of you get together?" she inquired, and while the tone sounded as if she didn't really care, Itachi knew she wanted to hear the answer. Watching him expectantly, wishing to know even though it would do her more damage than good. He thought of speaking, a sort of obscure sentence that wouldn't tell her anything at all, if only to spare her a little. Selfish, cowardly even, not wishing to inflict pain while he stood there, when he knew he'd hurt her before. That time in New York, nine and a half years ago, was the most memorable example as of now. Guilt dug into him. He knew he should have done things differently with her; made things easier. But he did not need to decide how to answer her question however, as Sayuri spoke up, more tense than gleeful as she met Serena's unwavering gaze.

"Well, we met at the corporation's dinner three years ago," she told her, and then looked up at him, smile uneasy, "and everything sort of clicked in place."

_It was only half the truth_, he thought darkly. But Sayuri didn't know that part, and likely never would. It was a secret agreement between himself and Madara.

One he would never utter to anyone.

"Love at first sight then?" It was spoken as if she already knew the true answer. Her gaze met his briefly before fixing it on Sayuri, who shifted slightly, uncomfortable.

There was another awkward silence.

"Something like that," Sayuri finally answered.

"Oh, I'm sure." There was no hiding the sarcasm of that remark. But Serena had a way of smoothing things over with charming smiles. "Well, I'm happy for you."

Hadn't he known her as well as he did, he might have believed it was sincere. But he did know her, recognized the dull expression in her eyes that spoke her true opinion. Minato must have sensed that the conversation could go no longer without sparking conflict, for he politely withdrew himself from his discussion with Rui to offer her his arm. She looked grateful at his intervention, giving him a brief, sincere smile as she slipped her arm through his. Minato took over the conversation gallantly, congratulating Mrs. Himoto for a successful evening and sharing a few polite sentences with Sayuri and himself. As they passed them by to approach Yoshino Nara, the Hokage gave him a knowing look.

The awkward tension broke off quickly when the pair had departed, Hana brushing past the group and Mira returning to her husband, now conversing with Shikaku Nara. Kurenai lingered a moment longer, but quickly sensed that her presence was not welcome and went in search of Asuma by the buffet table. It left himself and Sayuri standing in silence, waiting for the other to speak. He already knew what she would bring up, could hear the thought churn in her head.

"You've met her," she finally spoke, softly. Her blue gaze sought his and she no longer concealed how hurt she was by it. He hadn't expected anything less, but like so many other times, he simply felt numb. There was the dull feeling of guilt, barely there, and while he knew he should have felt more, he didn't. Only a rising frustration with her reckless actions.

"Yes," he admitted, and said nothing to elaborate. She already knew what was worth knowing. She and Kurenai Yuhi and perhaps half of the female population that had been in that ladies room. He leaned down, lips close to her ear so only she could hear his words.

"And so apparently have you."

She stiffened, color rising to her cheeks like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She had never been good at concealing her reactions. Not that they were needed this time; Serena had already let that cat out of the bag. She shifted, and slipped her arm from his, trying to withdraw.

"Yes, well…"

He caught her by the waist, keeping her rooted to the spot. She didn't look at him, gaze trained on a spot ahead of her.

"Don't do it again," he told her. He did not need to a have a full-fledged war between the two, not now. Sayuri remained stoically silent. Sensing that he had gotten his point across, he planted a kiss on her temple. Without another word he had removed himself from her, leaving her to her own devices.

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><p><strong>Characters<strong>:

Santa Yamanaka – male member of the Yamanaka clan, and a part of the canon series. He participated in the war, but none of his relations to characters such as Ino and Inoichi are explained. In my story, he is Inoichi Yamanaka's younger brother and the uncle of Ino, whom often takes the role as part-time parent for her.

Kin Tsuchi – in the canon series she is a kunoichi from Otogakure who participated in the Chunin Exams under the orders of Orochimaru, and was later killed during the invasion of Konoha. In my story she is a student at St. Konoha and a debutante.

Tsume Inuzuka – part of the canon series as Kiba and Hana's mother.

Hana Inuzuka – is the elder sister of Kiba Inuzuka and a part of the canon series. There she is a veterinary medical-nin. In this story she is a veterinary, and also an old-time friend of Itachi and Serena.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

Japanese:

Kairō - is the Japanese version of a cloister, a covered corridor usually built in Shinto shrines.

Aniki – big brother

Yuki-onna – English: snow woman, a figure in Japanese folklore

French:

Noveau riche – new money, can be used in a degrading manner to speak of people with newfound wealth.

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><p><em>Aaaand<em> another chapter is done!

I am truly sorry for this late, late update. I had hoped to get more done during the holidays, but, as always, life tended to get in the way of my plans. So I hope that you'll all forgive me.

So, in this chapter the cord is tightened around poor Shikamaru and Sasuke and Sakura have their long awaited first dance. Also, introducing Hana Inuzuka and a run-in between the happy couple and Serena. I hope you enjoyed it, and if everything goes as planned (it rarely does, so be warned), the next chapter will be up within a reasonable time-frame. The next chapter will involve more of Sakura, Serena and Madara, and lot's of drama!

Thank you so much for your reviews, lauchoco92, alyssahhh, MoniXD, Luka1Sakura, missjewels, dinosaurs wear sunglasses, yattsy, Miss Tigger, Mrs Renegade and RedSeaGlassStories!

To lauchoco92 – thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm happy that you liked the previous chapter. Sorry for the late update, though. As for Airisu, Sakura's mother, I haven't made mention of what she did when she was alive, but she ran charities and was member of committees similarly to Mira Himoto. I hope you enjoyed this and that you'll review again!

To alyssahhh - thank you so much for reviewing!

To MoniXD - thank you for reviewing again! I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, and hope you liked this one as well.

To Luka1Sakura - thank you for reviewing! I'm happy you loved the last chapter, and hope you enjoyed this one as well, particularly the SasuSaku part and the confrontation between Serena, Itachi and Sayuri.

To missjewels - thank you for reviewing once more! I always look forward to your reviews. I've tried to shorten on the changes in perspectives, as it's been pointed out that sometimes its difficult to follow, and I'm a lot more satisfied with it this way. As for my descriptions, yes, I tend to go a little overboard, so that's just simply one of those things I need to restrain myself with. And Orochimaru _is_ a pedophile, whether in the canon or real life. What he does is just._not_.normal. I understand completely that it is a bother when westernization simply becomes too much...well, _western_. And you're right, the concept and execution of the debutante season is very British and very little Japanese. It sort of has something to do with Sakura's grandmother, which will be brought up later, but I try to tone it down. Anyway, I'm glad that you liked the previous chapter and I hope you liked this one as well. Looking forward to your next review!

P.S. Yes, Kenji's autopsy report was not in Shikaku's files with the other one, which is a little suspicious as his report is perhaps the most crucial one to the investigation.

To dinosaurs wear sunglasses - thank you so much for reviewing! Always happy to see new faces here. I hope you liked this chapter, and that I'll hear from you again!

To yattsy - thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm glad to know you liked the previous chapter, and I'm sorry for the late update! As for Ino, I agree that no one deserves to be neglected, though I'm afraid it's necessary for the plot. I'm glad you liked Sakura and Serena's entrances, and I hope you liked Sasuke and Sakura's dancing scene. Hoping to hear from you again!

To Miss Tigger - thank you for reviewing again! I'm so happy you loved the last chapter, particularly Sasuke's reaction to Sakura's entrance. It truly is melancholy for her to be mistaken for her mother, with all the tragedy she involved. And yes, the comparison of the king and queen is quite accurate, since she never does what he expects of her. I hope you liked this chapter and that you'll review again soon!

To Mrs Renegade - thank you so much for reviewing! I am always happy to see new faces! I'm glad you like my story and that you've taken your time to review it. I myself get bothered when things are thrown in at random, so they rarely are in this story. Sometimes I tend to go overboard with the details, but I hope they're not as confusing to you in the later chapters. Thank you for pointing out the grammar error. It was pointed out once before and in the last couple of chapters I've corrected them. I simply haven't had the time to go back and fix all the chapters (there are a lot of those quotation marks). I'm happy you love Serena, she is truly my most beloved original character. And I love how you named the pairings (Sereitac, Sayuitac). I'm also glad that you appreciate Sayuri as well - you're the only one who has said that, actually. As for the relationship between Itachi and Sayuri, its not really meant to make much sense, but there's a couple of hints in this chapter as to how they got together and why. I hope that you liked this chapter and that I'll hear from you again!

To RedSeaGlassStories - thank you so much for reviewing! I'm always happy to see reviewers from my other stories, and I'm glad that you liked this one as well. It's also great to hear that this one is an improvement from the other (proves thar rewriting it was worth it). As for you question: no, Itachi's rival from the other story isn't going to be in this one, because there'll be plenty of rivalry coming from a couple of characters from the canon *hint*. I hope you liked this chapter and that you'll review again soon!


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